Lists are a good thing.  They encourage organization.  They help me remember to do something that I might ordinarily forget — especially something I don’t want to do, something that’s hard or unpleasant.  I often plan to make a list, but then….don’t.

            I think of activities that are easy for me.  I’m “on automatic” when I respond to those situations.  Like the mail.  When it arrives, I attack it like a drill sergeant.  I grab the stack of paper, ads and magazines and sort it by recipient. 

            Sometimes Maury gets the bulk of the delivery that day, but it’s not what I’d call exciting.  I have no positive relationship with United Health Care, but he does, so he’s cheerful when he gets those envelopes.  The waste of postage is appalling.  I wonder how much they could reduce their fees, if they fed the information to the receivers electronically – or at least put more than one statement in an envelope.  But I digress.

            Gone are the days when I received letters.  Do you even remember what such correspondence is?  A conversation starter, written in ink on paper, perhaps on a pretty note card.  Personal.  Kind.  Expressing interest in me and what I’m doing in my life. Sharing news.  I don’t remember the last time I received a real letter. 

            I used to get them frequently from Carol, my much loved mother-in-law.  She could give lessons on how to be the perfect mother-in-law.  An English major, her letters were exquisitely written.  She inspired me.  And there never was a criticism.  We shared a mutual admiration society. 

            My challenge today is to throw away as much as I can.  I rip open the gas bill, the invoice from CL&P and toss the envelopes and filler into a heap.  All other unwanted mail, opened or not, goes in that same pile and I then pitch all of it into the recycle bin.  I slide the invoices into the bright yellow folder in my desk drawer while magazines get placed on the coffee table or by my bed.  It’s all done in thirty seconds.  I have a routine, a habit on how I handle mail.  I feel satisfied and virtuous. If only every task was as easy,  I’d be a wiz.

About writerladyjane

I'm a writer with a finished memoir, titled Images. Most of the blog posts relate to the general subject of my memoir and are about my experience of Federal Agents entering my home and arresting my then-husband for child pornography, as well as the following two years of threats on me. There are also posts that are of a lighter nature and some to do with my travels, especially a trip around the world I took with my daughter. I have an MFA in creative writing from Fairfield University and live in Westport, CT.
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