I’m a keeper and a collector, especially of sentimental mementos. My (these days declining) love of physical books is connected to this. It’s exactly why I’ve dragged dozens of boxes of them every place I live. (Bookshelves are a whole discussion!) And it’s also why I still have every love letter I’ve ever received.
Which, I’ve come to realize, is silly — especially now, when I’m seeking a simple, small life. My goal in retirement is minimalism in everything. Clearance! (Going out of business!) Everything must go!
Quite some time ago, a friend commented that I hadn’t put anything on my walls — that years later they were as blank as the day I moved in. They’re still blank, at least twice as many years later.
The old grindstone!
It has been creating delightful occasions of frisson. After putting in a full work week, one enjoys the weekend, a bit of time off before returning to work. Except that this weekend lasts forever. This is not time off before returning to the grindstone, because that grindstone no longer hangs around my neck!
I promise to stop going on (and on and on) about this Real Soon Now. Quite a number of friends have expressed their jealousy (in mild jest, I hope). Just keep in mind that I jumped ship pretty early pension-wise, so how well this works out for me remains to be seen.
And you’ll have to bear with me if I blather on about work (or retirement) a bit longer. It’s a pretty major life change!