Things That Don’t Deserve Their Own Post
Getting old.
The other day, my wife was in a conversation at work and referred to someone as Gladys Kravitz. Blank stares all around. Nothing. No recognition. No spark.
This—among many other things—is why I could never handle a big age gap in a marriage. I make a reference like that, and she gives me a “who?” look. And then I have to decide whether to explain it (which kills it) or quietly mourn the slow disappearance of shared cultural memory.
Little surprise.
I was putting a record on at work, and a business card fell out of the album sleeve. Turns out it was a code to download the digital version for free. I’ve been playing this album for a month and somehow never noticed it.
A win on multiple levels. I like the album. And now I can load the best tracks onto my swimming headphones—old school, no Bluetooth, drag-and-drop like it’s 2009. Progress marches on, just not with me.
Third and fourth.
I found notes in my phone that I clearly thought were important at the time. Unfortunately, I did too good a job truncating the ideas. Just fragments. No context. No meaning.
I’m confident they were absolute gems. Insights that would have changed lives. Or at least made a decent blog post.
Now they’re gone. Lost to the world. Reduced to nonsense bullet points that only past-me understood—and even he didn’t bother to explain himself.
Sigh.
Carry on.