This evening I got dinner with a friend from college. I haven't seen her in a while, so we were catching up. She's a Ph.D. student. She just got permission to teach a new course next semester. She's excited about it. 2/
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Three years ago, I had bedbugs in my apartment and had to transfer everything in storage from cardboard boxes into sealable plastic bins. My husband and I were overwhelmed, and he asked me, couldn't I get rid of SOME of this stuff? 11/
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I hemmed and hawed and then said to myself: Maggie. You're a goddamn adult. You do not have to keep every piece of paper you touched in 16 years of education. Sure, keep the papers you wrote. But the readings? Notes? Syllabi? You're never going to need any of that. Let it go. 12/
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And I threw them out. All the readings. All the notes. All the syllabi. 13/
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I remember all this, and slowly, dejectedly, I climb down from the storage space. I text my friend: I'm sorry. I do not, after all, have the syllabus from this course I took sophomore year of college, because three years ago I gave in to my internal Marie Kondo voice. 14/
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I'm sorry. It won't happen again. 15/end
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