My wife has an impressive collection of decorative items. After we married and moved to my house, her prized possessions have sat in boxes in our dark, dank, poison gas filled basement. It has been this way for about two years. Then, a few months ago, we bought an antique cabinet to hold my wife's collection. It has sat empty until this very night.
The difference is striking. The cabinet went from empty to full. The boxes went from full to empty. Come recycling day, the boxes will go away forever. All in all my wife had a productive night.
(Note: the crock pot in the picture is not decorative. There just wasn't a better place to keep it.)
Although I helped my wife move some boxes, the arranging was all her. My night was already booked by a legal opinion I brought from the office. I was typing up some notes and editing as I went along. After some time of this, I instinctively fired up my blog and proceeded to edit old posts.
What better sense of satisfaction is there than reviewing your own blog and marveling at your own wittiness? Apparently the satisfaction of reviewing a well proofed blog or the aforementioned unpacking of the decorative items. My otherwise satisfying blog is chock full annoying errors: missing words, misspelled words, and sentences that make no sense. The devil is in the details. God is in the details. Either way I think my spell checker is an atheist.
I could let the errors be. Each blog entry is a moment in time that could be preserved for what it is. Yet, if the rapture does not come, my blog could taint future generations forever more. So becomes my duty to laboriously fix every error I find. If I worked at a newspaper, I would have an editor. Then again, if I worked at a newspaper I couldn't publish my musings on unpacking. At least proofing my blog is good practice for my legal work, which I suppose I should get back to doing . . . after I check that last untimely review of two star movies.