Another year, another pair of socks

It’s quiet here these days, what with Renée away in more westerly climes (if but for a week) and an oh-so-quick week cut short by a long Easter weekend. I spent my birthday (it was my birthday on Monday, did I forget to mention that?) doing exactly what I wanted to be doing: relaxing with my sweetie, away from anything even remotely resembling school or work or The Computer.

It’s funny how the older I get, and the more birthdays I put under my belt (literally, it seems) the less I want to forget that it’s actually my birthday. In my twenties it seemed like forgetting was The Thing That You Do: ply one’s body with as many noxious poisons and toxins so as to subdue the brain into numbness.

These days it seems like memories are becoming even that much more valuable. I cannot get enough of them. Some days I feel like we are nothing more than memory batteries; slowly, constantly charging.

There will be lots of time for forgetting. Now is the time for remembering.

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