I spent a great deal of this weekend putting things in order.
1. I organized my Google Calendar.
2. I organized my Evernotes and really, really committed to using the program. Sync’d it across my phone and tablet, made folders, sorted tags, threw out a bunch of stuff.
3. Cleaned up bookmarks.
4. Determined what I’m using Instapaper for, and began using it.
5. Cleaned out Twitter Favorites.
6. Sorted through bins of memorabilia and correspondence.
This item greatly amused J. As I sorted through old letters, postcards, and notebooks of mine (from high school to the present day) I recycled some and saved others. J asked me what the metric was. “If I read it and don’t care, I recycle it. If I glance at it and hurriedly throw it down because there are FEELINGS attached, I save it.”
In related news, I have a catastrophically large melodramatic streak. Also, an ego the size of a Cadillac.
I did save things not full of complicated emotion. I saved all the letters from my grandmother. I saved all the letters from people who are now dead. I saved all sorts of *terrible* attempts at fiction.
*Terrible* fiction, y’all. Just, wow.
But I was thinking about my grandfather. Who served in the Pacific theater during WWII. And how none of us know anything about his experience. He got back and never spoke of it as far as I know. As his grandchild, I’m curious. I want to know what his life looked like to him, how he felt about the decisions he had made. And I can’t ever know, now.
It’s entirely likely that my grandchildren won’t care in the slightest about my high school crushes and aspirations towards knighthood. But if they do, there it is. All written down in excruciatingly self-absorbed detail.
7. Swept my closet floor.
8. Freed up a storage drawer set for use in the dining room, when I get to working on that mess this coming week.
9. Started a bag of things for charitable donation.
10. Began the process of squaring away some editorial things.
11. Put away all the loose dvds in my room. This one was urgent since, as I bent down to get a pair of socks from the drawer, a cascade of dvds showered from the top of the tv onto my head. It was A Sign.
A good weekend’s worth of UFYH, is what I’m saying. I’m pleased.