Novelties

Set myself a challenge
Stay away for a week
After half an hour
Have to take a peek

Janet Psaila, Consumed

For some reason fudgsicles, creamsicles, ice cream cones and the like are called novelties.  One thing I’ve had a great deal of difficulty managing in my life are novelties stored in the refrigerator’s freezer.  Much like my gnawing on them, their presence gnaws at me, wherever I may be:  I know they are there, they know I am here and the tuggle begins.  They tug at my willpower, I tug at their existence.  I usually win.

It is like that with other things as well.  Money in the bank.  Unopened cans of paint.  Nights of rest.  Face cream.  A full jar of jam.  They make me uncomfortable and I will not feel satisfied until they are empty and their container discarded.  Discarding empty containers gives me great pleasure.  They are gone.  No longer can they gnaw me.

So it was with four posts that I wrote last Friday.  They appeared over the past four days.  I toyed with combining them, rearranging them, publishing them all at once.  Gnaw, gnaw, gnaw.  I wrote this post Saturday morning in an attempt to forestall my editing those other four, to keep me from spending them prematurely.

Odyssey:  Use It Up, Wear It Out

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