[Come summer heat, much of my blogging momentum melts away. Hence an experiment until Labor Day: fifty minimalist posts about whatever.]

When I was younger, I used to think when something didn’t work out with a husband, lover, friend, job, I could move on after a suitable period of regret, and start again.

That seemed to work for a while. Then it began not to. You can’t really clean the slate. We drag our histories with us wherever we go, and not only on our professional CVs. (Those can be doctored, but only so far). We’re just not brand new any more. Our emotional resumes color our responses to what comes next. Unsuccessful past experiences may engender mistrust, disbelief, self-doubt.

Later, when we’re older still, another problem unforeseen by the young arises. New opportunities become rarer. Is there (artfully masked) age discrimination in the workplace? You better believe it. Available new partners/lovers/friends? Fewer and farther between. If you’re still searching out a different resting place for your mind, heart or body, you can find yourself more and more sidelined.

Finally you see there’s some merit in the old saying, “Make it do, use it up, wear it out.” It’s not just about a penny saved is a penny earned. Too bad it takes some of us so long to realize it.