A while ago, I sat and wrote down 33 ideas for writing topics. Writing down that many topics doesn't mean I will use all or perhaps even most of them. I see, from the list, that I have used one of the them so far. That was the entry about being an aunt. The exercise of writing the list gets my mind going and sometimes (often), I need help with that.
I am glad that I am able to look at this list. A few moments ago, I could not find it. I was feeling rather displeased about that.
While the list is not essential to my future writing activities, I put some work into it and I would like to keep it, for now at least. Thus, I would like other people to respect it. I would prefer that they not write their sandwich order on the back of it (this was done) and I don't want it to become the go-to piece of scrap paper. I note that all the handwriting on the back of the paper is mine but I am trying to make a point.
In a way, it wouldn't have made much difference if this piece of paper had stayed lost. It has some value to me, though, and I am glad that it didn't get shredded or tossed in the recycling bin with other papers. Perhaps it represents something deeper. I guess I want some things around here to be mine and be respected as such. Sometimes things start out as mine but quickly join general usage. I am thinking of one soft blanket in particular. I had it in a secret location for my use. Now it's in the family room, free for anyone to use and soon the rabbits will probably be burrowing in it's soft, fur-like surface. It would be nice to have it back but maybe I will let that one go. At least I have my piece of paper. I also have a new appreciation that while it's good to share, sometimes it's good to have something that is "Mine!`` It seems like small children had it right all along.