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My wife and I held a housewarming yesterday in our house of two+ months. So many friends came and it was a fantastic time!

But we’re now agonizing over gifts without tags and we can’t recall their givers! We greeted, hugged, here this is for you!, start talking about the house, then another friend arrives and we context switch and our mental note about the gift doesn’t make it into the NVRAM.

So the afternoon is now a blur of memories. We look at some of the plants, wine glasses, and wine and can’t remember who to thank.

In an oblique way, this is a good problem to have: So many friends wishing you joy that you can’t remember them all!


I’ve started thinking about mine. I’ve ignored it for decades.

When I’m gone, nothing will remain. I haven’t done anything worthwhile with my life. Two hundred years from now my name may be found in digitized census records. But nobody will look for it.

Nothing is forever.

 


All day yesterday was house staging work. The downside is that our lives are progressively discombobulated, the upside is that there’s less emotional attachment to the house as the staging furniture arrives because it feels like I’m living in someone else’s house. So I guess I’m advancing through the grief stages.

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It’s late at night and you’ve been at it for hours. Your spouse starts yelling because the cellophane tape is breaking off of its roll and she/he can’t get the roll started again. Obscenities are being generated.

Do you reply with:

  1. “Why don’t you take a break? Better yet, let’s quit for the day.”
  2. “It doesn’t do that for me. What are you doing wrong?”

The correct response is something along the lines of #1. It is not, I repeat not, #2.

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