Who Dumped All This Stuff on Me?

Somewhere along the way, things I thought had been sorted, were hiding.  And multiplying.  This is the curse of those who lack routine and who can't filter the evidence of past life, accomplishments and failures without experiencing an awful feeling which is hard to simply name.

It feels like the sudden fear one experiences when realizing that an obligation has not been met, or a responsibility has been neglected.  Like leaving the stove on when leaving home, or forgetting to pick up the baby from day care; that sort of thing.

It also has that guilt tinged fear and remorse that would come if one didn't remember to pick up serious medicine for an invalid relative or similar transgression against such a simple trust.  I think there is some form of grief at the heart of this.  What is being grieved is unknown, but refusing to face the evil contents of old files, and related documents and mementos tends to cause the free floating grief and fear to be amplified when finally faced.

It is probably not as bad as it was.  A lot of useless refuse from the old days has been cast into the trash where it belongs, with a sigh of good riddance.  I dwell less upon thee things.  I find things which seem totally foreign to me.  I know these thing were once related to my life, but I have no recollection of them at all.

Overall, every time I consider the organizing of the items relevant to my life, fear plays in my gut.  A morbid feeling.  I thought I had rid myself of these worthless emotional triggers.  I guess most of it has been sorted, but I find not yet enough has been faced.

Now to stow what needs stowing in the newly emptied bins---mostly tools and related objects.  Then pack what I need, run around doing errands and hit the road Sunday morning.

I'll be wary of freezing children selling pencils, considering the long ago attack upon the person of the great grandfather of Belmondo, ballistic Tour guide.
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