Trouble

I found someone living in my crawlspace. 

After binge-watching Hoarders episodes, I decided, for the second time in two years, to clean out the half-height cubby hole above the kitchen.

The last time I'd gone in there, I'd found file boxes full of old documents. I didn't have the mental strength then to sort through them all, so I just put them back.

This time I pulled those boxes out, lifted the lids, hauled out the contents. And started to read.

And that's how I found the person in my crawlspace. She's in the box with twenty plus years' worth of journals extending from 1976 to 1998. 

It's me, but an exotic, unfamiliar me from so far in the past that she might just as well be a different person. But that was the point of writing those journals ... I left a record for my future self, so I could look back on the details of my life and perhaps find meaning, maybe solve the problem of the inscrutability of existence.

Maybe.

I did throw out a lot of what I found. Eight boxes' worth. But I kept the journals, put them in order and affixed a fresh label on the box so I can find them again when I'm ready to complete the assignment I set myself.

Even if that's just looking for trouble.

Thanks for reading!

Happy Labour Day Weekend!

Karen

Also found/almost unrecognizable. My sisters and
I circa 1963 in Winnipeg. Guess which one's me.