Three + more hours. This Christmas has been recorded and placed in the photo album. Only 365 more days to wait for the next Christmas. I will not decorate again; hopefully the ornaments will be parceled out to children or sold. All those memories safely stored in the next generation.
Fifteen minutes a day to clean out something or other and throw or give away which will add up to 7 hours per month or 84 hours a year. That would only amount to two weeks of regular work from eight to five. Perhaps, I had better double that to 30 minutes in the a.m. and 30 minutes in the p.m. which would mean a lot more accomplished in the next year.
I remember when we closed up mother’s house, all the bits and pieces of life lived in one place for a lifetime. What to do with the unused tooth paste; the left over dish detergent; the gardening supplies; the old magazines? At that time, I vowed to myself that I would not leave such a chore for my children.
Therefore, in winding down life, I will try to find a place for those things loved; family or sentimental in one way or the other, because I do not want to saddle my children with “40 acres and a mule“. They have the option to choose or to let go while I am still alive. I remember saying to my mother that I would take care of her things; now I want to pass those things on to whichever child will take care of her things and the things she made or my brothers or sister made and gave to me. If they carry no memories for either child then those things can be disposed of now. After all, there is just so much baggage one should carry around.
It is time to end this blog as well and move on. When I started it was a place to record all the things I had written on ragged sheets of paper; to have them in one spot and then it ended up not being what I planned. I opted to share my views; I ranted where others could see dimly into a soul not sure what it was all about; thereby losing my way in what I started out to do.
As the year came closer to being over I became very disappointed in myself and had this awful feeling that I had not succeeded in what I sat out to do. I became very angry with myself and found that the things I wanted to say were not said; I found I could not write as I had in the past because the voices which came to me at inopportune times disappeared. No, I am not crazy because I hear voices in my head; I know the symptoms of mental illness having worked in the field for a very long time.
Inspiration comes from inside as well as outside. I did not like writing on demand; it angered me that I chose to participate and then I was even more angry that I felt I had to finish. So, I set myself up to fail. I could have made a different choice. I recognize that the choice I made was not good for me. I don’t know if I like Blogger or not but that is where I started a long time ago…whenever it started and it is where I will stay. It will not be a personal blog; I don’t know what it will be, if anything.
I now have a personal journal. I suppose I will leave remnants of this blog here as a place I once hung out and met some very nice people in other places of the world. You were all kind to me and I appreciate that kindness. You could not have possibly liked everything I posted but a handful of you were faithful no matter what. Perhaps you saw through the facade; perhaps not. No matter, I will miss you each day. I wish you well and I do hope that all of you find peace in your life; leave this world a better place; and remember there once was a person who believed in Camelot…that person was me, before life happened.