I’m beginning to experience this influence in my life that is both perplexing and fascinating: I’m collecting and saving string.
Maybe that’s just being a good steward of the earth and her resources … or is it something more sinister … like an old-person-universal-genetic-code. That once you reach a certain age, you must collect string and wrap it in a little but expanding ball.
There was a day when I laughed at my father-in-law for his collection of string. I was cleaning his house and suggested we throw out this varied conglomeration of string. He looked at me like I had three heads. Beyond surprise, his shock accompanied a firm protested.
Well, Carl, today I’ve channeled your habit and I am quite proud of my growing (and useful) collection. You were a wise old codger.
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