Roger Paul

Billfold Babble

Well, I finally did it. I’m all reorganized. My personal space has now been transformed into a leaner and meaner bubble of business that will bring more order to my daily dance of duties and desires. I can move more easily with meaningful motion rather than wasted wandering willy-nilly near the edge of that bumbling border of random chaos and utter individual clutter.

My physical level of comfort has instantly risen with this change. It’s one of those things that make you think “why the heck did I wait so long” … but … we all get stuck in a stable style of achieving the constant completion of chores and checklists. Our long held methods to maintain maturity’s madness may make us mundane in this modern millennium … but … we continue to cling to the comfort of the familiar rather than the flash of fashionable for reasons we really can’t always readily nor reliably recall or reconcile. And it really matters not why or why for, nor do we feel obligated to explain our cherished customs of control and carefully created creature comforting ways of winning the world’s sometimes worthless wars of work and worrying.

I still wonder why I waited weeks, months, and years to whittle away at the width of my overstuffed wallet when there were many worthy reasons to work on thinning the ever thickening herd of things that fly in silent yet fastidious formation with us as we find our feats and fears to confront each day. It’s fair to blame fleeting frugality, but that’s far from thoroughly making one completely capable of comprehending the complacency toward completing this coveted conversion.

I taught myself throughout this process that prospects are real in which there are perhaps indeed some things I thought I could not do without that are there only for silly sentimental and/or romantic reasons, and perhaps hold their spot somewhat like the security blanket some stayed near during simpler times in their childhood. I don’t believe I ever had a “blanky” … but I have certainly been carrying a boisterous billfold busting at its seams with all manner of money, memories, mementoes, and mayhem. It was way past time to thin out the throng of thickening things that may have mattered many moons ago, but now had only served to suspend my Gluteus Maximus muscles several extra and totally unnecessary millimeters above any selected seat I’d find myself sitting in. The collection of colorful collectables were consistently with me, but created an ever expanding appendage as living loaded the lining of that old wallet to its long challenged limits and beyond its acceptable liability.

Ok, so maybe I didn’t need to harbor expired fishing licenses from far away fun places. And finding the preposterously pitiful pesos missing pieces was probably a sign that it was past their prime time. Perhaps it was not perfectly acceptable to pack old pictures of particularly pertinent persons from my past. Cheat sheets bearing dates and/or times of distant definitive decisions, directions, and diversions can now be instantly installed in an iPhone with just the casual click of the camera app. But, I guess like some have clung to a version of the news read from pulp turned into paper, I have persisted in preserving past pleasures penned on pieces of paper that are progressing slowly into unrecognizable flakes falling apart from far too much time and tail.

Now that I’ve thinned out the mass and manipulated the mess into two reorganized vessels of credentials and cards, I wonder how long it will be before I stop reaching for the wallet when I really needed the clip … and pulling out the clip when I really needed the wallet.

Oh well … at least my colleague will now breathe easier seeing that I resisted all past and recent suggestions that I procure a “murse” …

Metro, I am not.


The Easy Cajun*  

                                                                                                                       *Old Cajun Dude

Billfold Blabble 

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