Archeological Layers of Self

Rating: CNS
What was I doing? Cleaning—or rather it falls under the broad sub-category of cleaning (sorry, honey). Honestly, I was looking for some of my poetry. I can’t seem to find it when I want it—only when I’m totally not looking for it. Instead, I stumbled across random files from the past. I found high school choir notes and lists, a story written by a college boyfriend (with the names changed to give the thin guise of fiction), and some random thank you notes. Some of the items made me smile—pictures from a conference, some of the items made me frown—the B- that I received on the essay about Hugo Distler, and some items led to confusion—why did I even keep this?
All this brought me to two conclusions: 1) I really need to clean my basement. 2) Only illiterate people should clean basements or attics. There is too much stuff to stop and look at and read to ever accomplish the task of cleaning. I suppose even the illiterate are not immune if pictures are involved. Maybe the best thing to do is never clean the basement or attic. Sounds good to me!