Is there a relationship between an aversion to material goods and a compulsion to make fictions? Our ruminations were inconclusive on the matter, though I think we conceded that storytelling existed, for some, to use up ideas with which we are burdened. We agreed that we have a similar horror of baggage-that stuff we travel with that the Romans, I’m told, called “impedimenta.” But Ann and I seem to go about subduing our demons with different strategies. About a year ago, the novelist Ann Patchett and I tore up the cybernet with a feverish correspondence comparing her campaign not to buy anything for a year with mine, which was to throw out three things a day for 365 days. I suppose this is because I’m fairly orderly to begin with. So, you ask, how am I doing? I mean in pandemic behavioral terms? Well, I’ve avoided succumbing to the syndrome that befalls some, that of morphing into a deranged über-hausfrau.
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