purgatorium

I purged my office of months, if not years, but not decades, of stuff: bills, notes, memos, receipts, solicitations, ads, magazines, articles, cards, minutiae, flotsam, jetsam, effluvia, and other papers. "Purged" is only partially accurate: many items were tossed into a paper bag that will go to the curb for recycling (and then where?); other items went into folders -- folders marked with a handwritten identifier, folders I'll probably never consult. So, why not toss the stuff?

This document purging was preparation for some tidy projects coming up; call it a rolling up of the sleeves, figuratively speaking, to mix metaphors.

The paper winnowing curiously coincides with a procedure tomorrow that requires a winnowing of the human plumbing system. Yay. It's not too bad, not as invasively cathartic as the procedural prep years ago.

Purgatory. That was a tough concept as a kid. "Let me get this straight. It's like hell but not quite forever. Do they tell you it's only for a couple trillion years?" And you wonder why I became an Episcopalian?