Today I continued my clear out the garage project, fitting for a senior in the pandemic. Stored paperwork was the object today.
It reminded me of why I so hate the details I am occasionally forced to endure. So let me ask you: Has anyone, who ever refinanced a loan, actually, read any of the details in the Les Miserables-sized package of to- be-signed, paperwork? I guess we just put our trust in a multitude of folks who present us with the signing marathon.
Looking back at some, ominous signing marathons in which I voluntarily participated, brought me back to my medical school library a day in the Fall of 1967. I was about to study for my first anatomy exam. I had a thick anatomy book and reams of notes sitting before me. It was to require, first, that I digest the material and then a few days later bring it back up for the ardent gang who taught the anatomy course.
My first thought as I observed the height of the pile in front of me was, Do I really want to get this medical degree? Then remembering the Vietnam War had heated up in 1965, I quickly began devouring the meal before me. The backlines in other words sounded a lot better than the frontlines as I observed the bloodthirsty events going on in East Asia, available over dinner to the casual viewer.
Such was my day holed up in our improving garage…