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Overwhelmed by Archives

I'm making good on my plan of two weeks ago to sort through the boxes that have been piled in the alcove of my laundry room since last year's move. One of them contained files, which were easily dropped into drawers (sorting the cabinet will be another matter).

The box I'm going through now contains stacks of notebooks, none of them full, most of them containing a mix of journal entries, jottings, and fragments of fiction.

I page through them and see bits of my prevoius life, my reflections, my inner worlds, and I don't want to just toss them out, but there is little order to them. What I want is to be able to enter them all into my LifeJournal program, but if I did that, I'd spend all my free time reprocessing my old life rather than living this one. I'd pay someone to do it if I could afford to, but that's not going to happen in the forseeable future.

I started my first journal as an English class assignment in the sixth grade, and I've continued more or less consistently since then. I never expected how many I would end up having so many volumes of my reflections. . . Much less how much paper I'd generate from my other writing.

Not sure what to do about the situation besides buying another under-the-bed storage box to go with the one that contains my other stash of journals.

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Queen of Swords

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