inventory (damn it, socrates)

no day goes by without it. eight scoops of coffee, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, oh heck add another to make it just a tad stronger,  one teaspoon of sugar (the bowl is half empty), three shirts to be washed, measure the laundry soap, the fabric softener, boil one egg (there are seven left in the carton), take three one-gallon plastic bags on the dog walk to pick up poop–the box of bags looks to be nearly full (minus the three you just pulled out, and btw, do you not just hate it when you pull on one bag to remove it and nearly all of them come out at the same time and you end up stuffing them back in the box–never as neatly as they were originally?)  take one each of the following and two of this one and 1/2 of that one (is it time for refills?), you used the last tissue, replace the box, fill the qtip jar.   it’s four minutes down the hill and 19.5 miles to work, at the electronic traffic sign on the freeway at el toro it tells you that it is 22 minutes to the 57, you make a mental note to exit at jeffrey instead of jamboree, one, two, three, four, five; all that before the day even starts at work (pile it on).

categorizing, counting, this goes here, that goes there, every moment of your life an inventory; how much do i have, how much do i need, where shall i put it, why don’t i have more, when will it end? (and you’ll be happy to note that i’ve begun counting the number of times i ask a rhetorical question here.)

and then there’s the whole matter of ‘taking stock of your life’.  could anything be more futile and yet so necessary?  how many missed opportunities, how many successes, loves, losses, the living and the dead?  if we didn’t take an inventory every now and then there would be nothing for writers to write, painters to paint, or musicians to music (i know, but it confounds me that writers write, painters paint, but musicians don’t music, they make music.  who came up with that i ask you?)

the week in review then (but backwards, beginning today through next, well, until i’m done with it.)  the answer is nine.

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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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