Life As List (abridged ed.)

There are, also, thirteen types of hope, also described here chronologically:

1) “I hope that my alarm clock went off accidentally in the middle of the night and so it’s not dawn.”

2) “I hope that the quiet camaraderie of breakfast extends throughout the planet.”

3) “I hope that this newspaper is kidding.”

4) “I hope that I look busy to anyone invested in my busyness.”

5) “I hope that I manage not to say what is on my mind whilst speaking with this professional associate.”

6) “I hope that clock is playing a trick on me.”

7) “I hope that the talk at cocktail time is imaginative and hilarious.”

8) “I hope cauliflower is not involved overmuch.”

9) “I hope someone else is doing the dishes.”

10) “I hope that this book improves.”

11) “I hope that noise was nothing.”

12) “I hope that the most obvious and embarrassing interpretation of this dream is off-base in some way I have not yet determined.”

You may be interested to know that I have categorized thirteen kinds of despair, listed here for your convenience… and arranged by time-of-day, so with planning you may experience all thirteen despairs in a single twenty-four hour period.

The first kind of despair is the suspicion that there is no safe territory outside the warm confines of one’s bedclothes.

The second kind of despair is the sense that even the most elegant of breakfasts is fragile resistance to the oncoming day.

The third kind of despair is finding life as shifty and indiscernible as the Rorschach of crumbs on your plate.

The fourth kind of despair is when the tea is so hot you must leave it alone until it is far too cold.

The fifth kind of despair is the knowledge that with the sun overhead, your shadow has vanished and there is no place to hide.

The sixth kind of despair is when you realize you must close the book you are reading and reluctantly participate in something or other.

The seventh kind of despair is that the sun has set on another day and so little has been done.

The eighth kind of despair is burning dinner in the oven.

The ninth kind of despair is the realization that a bad dinner still creates dirty dishes.

The tenth kind of despair is the presentiment that a darkening sky brings darkening times.

The eleventh kind of despair is the inkling that an evening should have been better spent but that it is almost bedtime.

The twelfth kind of despair is the knowledge that countless others are sleepless with you.