I had fully intended to write a post about a picture that was taken in 2005 of my mother, me, my daughter Sarah and her daughter Julia. You'd think that a photo of 4 generations of women, all dressed for Christmas, would be among the easy to find photos. You would be so wrong.
That is why this post is turning out to be a thought-piece on how someone who managed files all her life, both at home and at work, can have arrived at a stage in her life where her virtual photographs are mostly lumped in an open file called "Photos" or are in folders identified by the date on which they were downloaded.
That sort of thinking is mirrored in my sock drawer, in which socks are findable only if I can remember when I last took them out of the dryer, thus indicating the layer in which they scrunched. And in our pantry, where only the things that Dave put away are in any logical order---the ones I put away are sitting where there happened to be room. Dave would have moved things around so like cans could sit by like cans and flour could stand next to sugar.
Now that I've started thinking about this aberration in my life, I can't stop. I'm overwhelmed by the downward slide on my scale of things managed. What could possibly be in a folder called "Incredible Cuteness"? I immediately thought of my darling grandchildren, but no---it's all about shoes.
Maybe tomorrow, if I can resist watching TV tonight, I will have found that photo of the 4 generations and will write a post about something that really actually matters.