From the viewpoint of her friends, family and colleagues, Annika had it all together. Her home, like her life, was immaculately presented, with all surfaces gleaming and devoid of the usual stuff that seemed to gravitate to the dusty corners of other people’s houses. Her sisters would maintain that even the junk drawer in Annika’s kitchen was organised. If they teased her about it, Annika had a standard response. ‘Tidy life, tidy mind.’
But despite her best efforts to have a mind as streamlined and devoid of sentiment as her home environment, Annika was frequently disappointed by the random memories that appeared at intervals. These usually popped up at an inconvenient time, which made it all the more unsettling.
Annika could understand why the aroma of freshly baked scones would remind her of visiting a great-aunt when she was a child. But how did this memory serve her? Surely, she could make her mind forget it, and free up space for things that were more current and important to her now.
There were other sensory interruptions, as she thought of them, which were an unwelcome distraction. Why could she recall with clarity the misshapen bowl that her youngest sister had given her — long since dispatched as it had no style or purpose — but it took her seconds longer than she felt was necessary to recall the name of a colleague’s children?
If only this mental clutter could be erased as swiftly as an unwanted digital file. Annika found it difficult to believe that there was any merit in these messy, unconnected moments, which her mind stubbornly insisted on retaining.
I’m participating in this blogging challenge for the month of January, which supports starting the year on the “write” track. You can find other posts with #bloganuary and join in the challenge.
Photo: Detail on phrenology head
jml297 
Everywhere 🤣
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The digital clutter is real. I would love to have all my files properly labeled, dated, and put into folders, and all the duplicates recycled.
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