I was originally supposed to go into work this weekend, but they pushed that off until next weekend. And since this was a traditional dark and stormy
So I spent most of the weekend sorting through the layers of stuff in my garage. Like a tell, you can tell* a lot about my life by looking at the stuff I've kept for so many years.
Sorting through a heap like this involves time travel. I'd hit certain boxes that were micro-capsules from the past, mini-representations of entire eras in my past. It's tiring to sort through things; you end up re-living the memories and sometimes you dig up some pretty heavy stuff. I have always set great store by my storage, and it's traditionally been very hard for me to get rid of things.
Now, however, my biggest question, with most of this stuff, is "why?"
This weekend, I got rid of things that I'd kept for 10, 20, even 40 years. In some cases I have no idea why I was saving them. Is this a sign of old age? Am I evolving into a more spiritual being, detached from material possessions?
Or maybe my psyche is starting to feel like I'm on a sinking ship and I need to lighten the load.
p.s. Xenia, why don't you warn people that a large part of archaeology involves fighting off big, ugly, scary-looking spiders? I do feel someone ought to have mentioned that somewhere along the line.
Exercise du jour: 30 minutes rowing.
Fail. Fail, fail, fail, fail. There are times when life gets in the way, and then there are times when you look at the schedule and say "WTF? Who scheduled this in today's list? Even Superman would have said "The heck with this," and gone back to the drawing board.
In other words, goals created in theory had no basis in tonight's reality. Not that I'm all that much in favor of reality, in general.
*Hey, it's Punday. You're supposed to make puns. Nobody said they had to be good puns.