poliphilo

It's embarrassing- I just had to email Judy and ask her for her address. This is someone I exchange emails with every day- and I don't know where she lives. Of course, I used to know. I've been in possession of bits of paper with her address scrawled accross the top, but where are they now? Maybe they're buried in the random drifts of paper that lie about the house like untimely snow or maybe they've been shredded.

I'm terrified of throwing papers away for fear of losing important bits of information, but, wotthehell, the important bits of information get lost anyway. Why don't I keep an address book? That's a very good question.

I think I must be in love with this feckless persona of mine. I don't keep a record of addresses, I can't remember telephone numbers (Including my own), I have a wallet full of silly plastic cards that I can't use because I don't know the PIN numbers.

All this could be rectified.

But it's endearing, isn't it? Poor helpless little fellow. It gets me mothered.