The List That Solved Absolutely Nothing
Some people keep journals full of wisdom. Others keep notebooks full of goals. I, apparently, keep random pieces of paper that look like they were written by someone trying to complete a quest in a videogame about household fabrics. Today, I found one tucked inside a folder that had absolutely nothing to do with anything remotely practical — which somehow made it even funnier.
At the very top of the page, written with the confidence of someone who definitely thought they’d remember the context later, was carpet cleaning woking. No title. No explanation. No date. Just the link, floating like a lone thought bubble with no sentence attached.
Directly underneath it, as if part of an extremely specific trilogy, was upholstery cleaning woking. Then sofa cleaning woking, completing what looked suspiciously like a shopping list for someone obsessed with the hygiene of things you sit on.
But the mystery didn’t stop there. Next came mattress cleaning woking — which implies there was once a situation involving a mattress that I’ve clearly blocked out for emotional safety. And finally, like the least dramatic ending to a story ever written, the list concluded with rug cleaning woking.
Five links. No context. The oddly satisfying symmetry of a person who clearly thought, “Yes, this is information the future will absolutely need.”
Spoiler: the future did not.
I sat there trying to psychoanalyse my past self. Was this a research mission? A panic reaction? A procrastination strategy disguised as productivity? Or was I just copying links with the same energy people have when they say, “I’ll start my new life on Monday?”
Honestly, it was probably none of those. It was probably just me being a human — writing things down because it felt like doing something, even though it was actually nothing.
So I did what I do best: absolutely nothing about it.
I didn’t throw it away. I didn’t add to it. I didn’t use it.
I folded the paper, put it right back where I found it, and let it remain the unsolved riddle it was born to be.
One day, I’ll rediscover it again. And one day, I’ll still have no idea why it exists. And that will somehow make it even better.
Not every note is a reminder.
Some are just proof that our brains wander, make shapes, and leave evidence behind.
And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.