A curious muse just accused me, in a roundabout (or not really that roundabout) way of being a fetishist of lists.
I like lists.
Perhaps because I’m lazy, because constructing all the interstitial words – the verbs, conjunctions, prepositions, etc. – that form the segues from one thought to the next doesn’t have the same payoff as simply jumping to the next substantive item.
Or maybe because lists are hot.
I think a little of each.
And so, herewith, a list:
Dressed to the nines
And another, equally important (perhaps even prerequisite) one: