A little story about my data.

It's sort of the same story I have about my shoes, books, music (see: data), photos (see: data), files, tee shirts, and sweaters: too much.

But let me start at the beginning.

Tomorrow, my employer is replacing my current MacBook Pro with a new one, as part of the regime of keeping employee laptops up to date. So: exciting! So happy!

Right now, I am transferring data from said current laptop to an external drive. Here are a few things I have learned about data and me:

1. I do not have a good filing system. Or rather, my filing system works okay, but it is all over the place. Like my shoes, books, music, photos, files, tee shirts and sweaters. And other stuff.

2. I have to retrieve all of it, and copy it to said external drive. This is going to take longer than I thought. Will I be up all night? We'll see.

3. Is there some of that data I don't need? Probably. No doubt. Which data would that be? Who can say? Not me, not right now, not when there's so much data to move, and I don't want to be up all night.

4. Photos. Anyone? Anyone? What should I do, or rather, what should I have done? iPhotos is bossy. I knew this awhile ago, but I never came up with a better solution. Here's one solution: delete bad photos from the camera before importing them. But what if the bad photo is interesting? Who can tell, when you're looking at it on that teeny camera screen?

5. Music, oy. I know I should just stop buying it and only listen to Spotify. But would I then be doing my part to save the music business? Which can barely be bothered to save itself?

I would make a comic about this, but this would involve, maybe, creating more data. I'm nervous about that.

I think I need better data habits, hygiene, and practices. I wish someone would send me some directions about how to do that on my new, fresh laptop. I don't want to besmirch it with my terrible old data regime.

The end of the story about data. I'm sorry it doesn't have a happy ending. Give me advice, so there will at least be hope.

OKAY.

So, this week has included, thus far:

1. vacation Monday, which ended with

2. ceiling collapse/need a new roof Tuesday.

3. roofer consultations and bids galore.

4. visit to grandchild's classroom for class opera The Friends (excellent, by the by).

5. lunch with grandchild and fam.

6. second lunch with colleague and friend.

7. book group.

8. breakfast with daughter and grandson.

9. food shopping for

10. baby shower for other colleague and friend.

As full of delights as this list is--and it is full! heaven knows, busting out all over with delights!--I need to get to work.

The historian and I just had a little midday phone call, because (a) more roofing talk, and (b) I left my phone at a store across the street from where I had breakfast this morning. He said, "So what have you got to do today?"

To which I replied, "I have a whole list":

1. straighten (this verb includes a myriad of stuff and messes)

2. wash (the whites and the sheets)

3. make videos (which I owe, in a sense, my college...therefore, I have procrastinated and resisted--one of my small handful of key, signature moves)

4. sew (I have inventoried the piles of fabric I have accumulated over the years. I am going to make things out of this fabric. Some things.)

5. cook @ 4. For the baby shower.

So it's time to get cracking.

Notice how there's no writing in that list? I wonder: what's that about?

I think now is a good time to panic.

Don't you?

It all started with the brilliant idea I had to pay Danny, running son's friend, to strip wallpaper and paint our bedroom while we're in Idaho. What is this stage of life for, if not to pawn off work on young people and pay them the benjamins so they can afford to go to college and eat junk food and buy concert tickets and whatnot.

Tonight, as I was searching for the copies of my poems that had the notes on them from my writing group, so I could make a pass at the manuscript before I hand it off to my friend for her take on it, I was struck by a series of facts that had that duh duh DUH feel about them, aka, the sound of DOOM:

fact 1: in order that Danny may begin the project of wallpaper stripping, we must create space and maneuvering ability in the room.

fact 2: creation of said maneuverability will entail moving a LOT of stuff out of that room.

side fact: OH MY LORD there is so much stuff. what is the meaning of this stuff? why the stuff?

fact 3: ahem, also, I will need to move my clothes out of that over-stuffed closet.

fact 4: where will I put the clothes? and the furniture? and also the clothes? and don't forget about the shoes.

fact 5: not to mention the dust.

fact 6: and someone needs to choose the paint. and also: go buy the paint.

Ergo, I am awake at 2:45 a.m., writing this and revising my manuscript, and making a long list that attempts to cope with the limited number of days before we leave and the amount of stuff-schlepping that needs to occur, along with various family and social engagements, good heavens.

Irresistible.

Post-Grammys commentary:

Me (via e): Just wondered if you saw Amy Winehouse (performing in the UK, I think)--did not look good, I didn't think.

Scotland daughter (via e): I think she is kind of a mess most of the time... she went blond for awhile, but looks like she's gone back to black (I could NOT help myself).

The Grammys suck, by the way. Worst awards show ever.