A Collection of Thoughts

Several weeks ago, I brought Sam for his annual physical. At the end of the appointment, his doctor gave me a slip for some blood work he wanted done on Sam. The lab was a “walk-in” which means you don’t schedule an appointment- you just show up- which also means that since you don't schedule an appointment, you don’t get around to going.

When we got home, I dutifully stuck his paperwork to our refrigerator so I wouldn’t forget it. This refrigerator, along with a bulletin board on the other wall, are pretty much a microcosm of what is wrong with our house- it allows us to put things in a place of prominence, appreciate it’s importance for a time- and then never think about them again.

Things get stacked and saved, never to move from where they originally came to rest. Instead, they will live out their lives, secure in the knowledge that they will never be thrown away.

It's been so long, I can’t remember whether the original culprit was the refrigerator or if it was the bulletin board. I think, judging by the layer of dust, that it started with the bulletin board. This, I believe, is where the Very Important Papers once went- things like emergency phone numbers and dump stickers. The bulletin board became the stodgy, but dependable part of town. The refrigerator became the newer, hipper neighborhood. It was reserved for displaying Things of Pride- photos, and artwork and awards from school. Somewhere along the line, magnetic stuffed animals also joined the party.

Over time though, both of these neighborhoods became over-crowded. Lines got blurred and little by little, things began to get posted largely on the basis of where there was an empty space. Eventually the empty spaces dried up and the only criteria became “Ease of Access”.

The old bulletin board never stood a chance against the centrally located refrigerator. The bulletin board has long since been relegated to almost graveyard status- a graveyard covered in litter- old, dusty litter. This is the place of last resort. This is where dead flowers are left hanging after some forgotten occasion from the distant past. This is where old phone numbers still sit- at least one of which is for a neighbor that moved away years ago. (The other numbers, I have no idea- did we ever know a Gloria? And who is Mrs. Meek?) This is where once important papers still hang- like outdated take-out menus with coupons from 2006 and a Proof of Jury Service Certificate dated January 11, 2008. This is where you look when you’re trying to find your Social Security Card.

The paperwork for Sam's lab moved into the newer neighborhood. This process was the same as it was for all the previous arrivals- the same futile game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, minus the blindfold. A home had to be found, so photos ended up getting shifted and magnets were tested until one was found that would, at least precariously, hold the new lab slip over the wad of old papers beneath it. In this case, the stack included a school calendar from December of last year- recent by our standards.

But it did kind of serve it’s purpose. I knew Sam's paperwork was there. Somewhere. I just needed to get around to looking for it. And more importantly, I needed to get around to doing something about it.

Which brings me to the point of what I was originally going to write about, which was Sam's appointment.

But I’ll get to that another time.