I have many thoughts about blogging sitting on the edge of my cup: A response to something my son posted on Facebook yesterday concerning skepticism, comments about a new group forming in Little Falls around the issue of global warming, a confession about my dessert rampage yesterday. Other ideas are written down on a piece paper sitting next to my computer. There are lots of papers around my computer. It is crazy. It is out of control.
I have this problem when I try to organize paper. I don’t know what to save and what to discard and what I save I don’t know how to organize. I carry a little notebook around in my purse. In it I write things people say that I think is funny or profound. I write the names of books I think I may want to read or websites to visit, phone numbers and e-mail addresses. I write little reminders to myself, things I want to remember to do when I get home but I never remember to pull out the little notebook when I get there. It is better to call my home phone and leave a message on the answering machine. Bernie often listens, erases the message and forgets to tell me what I’d said to myself.
People think that I am organized. Actually, it is not my nature to be so. I have to work at it. That is why the papers and notebooks and phone calls to myself. It is only because of the grace of God that I get through life without needing most of what I forget. I used to get upset when I come across one of these forget-me-dids. I would be terribly embarrassed. At the silent auction the other night, a woman came up to me and said, “There is no bid card for the ice auger and I would like to bid on it.” It didn’t bother me at all. Not a twinge of guilt or remorse. No flusterment.