My good deed this weekend was participating in a craft swap. If you think that's not a good deed, remember that Husband-cat is a minimalist and I have boxes I haven't unpacked in years. I rooted around in our basement, battling spiders and hearing suspicious scratching noises from outside the house (not less creepy than inside, I assure you). I came up with two full bags, mainly beads and art supplies.
This prompted me to wonder the following: when the fuck did I get so many interesting and esoteric beads? What on earth did I plan to do with them? The volume far exceeded a casual interest so I must have had some sort of plan -- perhaps from a summer of my innocent youth. That thought made me sad to part with them. It was like giving away my faint memory of being that young and wanting to make shiny baubles to adorn myself.
Packing them up for the exchange I could almost remember who I was when I had them, how I played with them and designed things in my head. I never made anything with them. Now my creative interest lies elsewhere. Guess that's a lesson, you should always act on the plans in your head. Otherwise they'll fade away.
But you can't make new if you're bogged down with the old. I came back from the swap with a fistful of loot including a vintage card game called Snap (which I always say in my head as "Oooooh, Snap!"):
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