Documenting time
It’s funny how life has changed.
Once upon a time, back in the dark ages life was anything but routine. Each day was subtly [or not so subtly] different. There were certain routines all right but generally there was variations, whether it was office rows or Daughter’s antics or whatever.
I used to keep a diary journal. I started it in ’75 and stopped again after a few months. Later in ’82 I started again and this time I kept it running for over twenty years. My biggest regret was that I didn’t cover the years fro ’75 to ’82 as that was the period of house-moves and Daughter’s arrival in this world.
I gave it up eventually shortly into the new Millennium. At that stage I had left RTE and was running my own little business. The reason I stopped was that there really wasn’t that much to write about, even though there were notable events, whether it was meeting new clients or finishing old ones.
Now a journal would be pointless. Every day would contain the same entry – “see yesterday” or even “ditto”. Life here is like a slow moving river with very few ripples and only the occasional flood. There are events that have happened but I haven’t a clue when they happened. Strangely enough I sometimes delve into the sludge that is this site in the hopes of finding dates. Just as an example, I was wondering when exactly I had had my little heart “event” and it took me a while to find it – 22nd August 2019 – coming up to five years ago?!
Other events are now lost in the mists of time, partly because I had obfuscated the topic [making it difficult to find] or it involved Herself and she don’t like being writ about [not that that stops me from time to time].
So this here site has somehow reverted to the original concept of a “web log”. It was originally started as a bit of a laugh where I could scribble some piece of whimsy. But I have scraped the whimsy barrel and am back to scribbling about day to day events. Except that day-to-day now translates into “see yesterday” or even “ditto”. Occasionally I’ll think up something new but then find in hindsight that I had written the same shit before. That’s what happens when the memory starts to go.
By teatime I’ll have forgotten what I scribbled today.
I did something similar about ten or twelve years ago. Eventually we got to the point where the last of the kids were up and out on their own. The result was that I found myself without much to write about other than the occasional stopped up drain or the ever exciting, plugged toilet. Trips to town for groceries were nothing to write about, (the exception was an occasional rant about prices going up again.)
Blocked sewers are the height of excitement these days. I look forward to them with relish.
I was going to write a witty comment, but I now realise I wrote a witty comment here a few days ago so just go and read that one. OK?
I feel your pain!