One Mile Walk

The Blue Chair

         Twenty years ago, I used to read 15-20 novels a year. Most nights I'd spend a couple hours reading in a favorite blue chair beside my desk.
         But, not so much lately. You see, that chair is stacked high with research records, drafts, flash fiction efforts, memoir sections, instruction manuals, articles, and just about any other junk printed off the Internet. I have a mental difficulty in understanding what I read directly from the monitor. I have to print it and hold it in my hands to really appreciate what it says. So the chair stack has grown to ridiculous mass.
         This last week I have been unloading that chair and clearing related other stuff from my office to make room so I can start using that chair again.
         As I pull files from the stacks, I have to glance at them (don't want to throw away something important)... and that's a hazard.
         No, not much is important. But everything was important at that time. That's why I saved them.
         Red pen reviews of scenes from an incomplete novel. "Gee, that'd make sense." So I'd look up what I saved in the archives... and see I never recorded the corrections. "Why?" Should I go in and correct something I had discarded ten years ago?
         I used to write, lots, NaNoWriMo four times, bi-weekly reviews for two writing groups, 13 flash fiction attempts, and even some awfully bad poetry.
         The first stuff I pulled off the top was fairly recent. Dealing with my accident, my wife's stent, and problems with Covid. And my archives are up to date mostly.
         But when I pulled out 2010, I was writing a love story. "Who wrote this? That was me?" Plus, it wasn't all that bad if I make a few corrections here and there, ...and there ...and-
         No, don't do that. The objective here is to clear the chair... so I can read some real fiction.

         Hay, it can wait. The World Series is on this week ...and next.
         Maybe if I move the chair a bit, I could watch the game too.