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2002-08-24
10:12 p.m.
It's been a lovely end of summer Saturday. One of those overrrrcaaaaast...no..wait..sunshine..damp and sunny days. D and I nursed our affliction for stock piling and cluttering. We attempted to clean up the maddness and make some room in our super tiny house. I only made a dent in one of my piles. I am concerned that if I pass away from this cancer or my impending pulmonary embolism that my piles of mementoes, junk mail, unused coupons and Japanese stationary will cause so much stress in the lives of those I leave behind that my memory will be tainted. I should be concerned about being tidy for my luva and roomie - D - but he has issues of his own and frankly, more piles. Is there some sort of deep-seated animal instinct thing that makes us humans hoard or collect stuff? Could I compare my need to save that slip of paper that I wrote on that one time while talking to that one person to the chipmunk's need to pack away as much nuttage as possible? Or am I just truly sick? huh? - 2004-01-15 resolutions - 2004-01-09 video reason - 2003-12-30 sik - 2003-12-06 voiceless - 2003-11-19
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