All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray …

That song has been going through my head for part of the afternoon, along with certain other songs, but mostly “California Dreamin'” because that’s the kind of day it is. And I (briefly) considered driving out to the lake and seeing what kinds of leaves I could find out there, what colors, but then I remembered I had something I needed to do — something I needed to get rid of — before I did anything else.

See, I’m in the process of Kiddle-proofing my house. Not saying I’m gonna bring her home with me or that I’m even anywhere close to “committing” to another pet, but … there is something about her, and I really do adore her. Plus, the colder it gets outside, the more I’m thinking, Maybe I really should bring her inside.

She’s wild, though. Not so wild that she won’t spend several minutes (hours, if I’d let her) lying on my lap, purring and kneading and burrowing, but wild enough that I know she will probably knock off or rip up or bat around anything in my house that’s not secured prior to her arrival.

(I’m using this, too, as the perfect opportunity to finish — and by “finish,” I pretty much mean “start” — my, uhm, Spring Cleaning for the year!)

I’ve also decided to sort through my mostly worthless possessions and see if I have anything that might fetch a few dollars on eBay.

I mainly dread this process because, let’s be honest, I’m a slacker and I really don’t want to be organized, and also because every time I even think about sorting and cleaning and rearranging and organizing, I almost immediately think of something else I’d rather be doing.

Like right now. I could be doing any of those activities, yet here I sit, writing about what I could or should or would be doing, if I weren’t, instead, writing about it. (Such a conundrum!)

And even with all that in mind, I’m compelled to mention that the 2007-08 Indoor Tennis Season began — albeit unofficially — last night at the (almost) brand-spankin’ new RLC indoor tennis court. And how glad I am that, instead of having to drive (at least) 45 minutes to play at the Carbondale sports center (along with paying an outrageous annual fee for what amounts to only five months of indoor tennis, plus court fees), I can now play on a court that’s 15 minutes from my house and requires no yearly fee. And I’m playing tennis again tonight!

In the meantime, though: While I was cleaning/organizing — or, rather, thinking about cleaning/organizing — I realized there was something I was going to run across that I needed to get rid of. It could have been a picture or a piece of jewelry or maybe even a journal entry; it actually wasn’t any of those things, and what it is isn’t important, anyway — it’s the fact that I still had it, and occasionally (but not very often, at all), I would think about it and know, if I ever wanted or needed to, I could look at it and remember.

And it wasn’t as if I’ve ever wanted OR needed to, really, for quite some time now, but it was the knowing that I could. And like anything that reminds us of the past, in any way, this could pretty much immerse me … if I allowed it to.

For quite a while, I allowed it to. And then I stopped allowing it to, but even then, I knew it still could, if I let myself spend any time at all looking at it.

So, earlier this afternoon, I got rid of it. Right before I did, though, I allowed myself to take a long, last hard look at it, and remember … and smile … and shake my head and ask myself (for the 1,000th time, prolly), “What on earth were you thinking?” … and wonder.

And suddenly, I have these lyrics from “The End of the Innocence” running through my head:

I need to remember this
So, baby, give me just one kiss
And let me take a long last look
Before we say good-bye …

I admit I’ve been inspired, writing-wise, over the past few days by bloggie posts by Danny and Jane. Danny wrote a killer entry here about letting go; Jane wrote one that you can’t read unless you’re one of her MySpace friends, but it’s about how, basically, we remain pretty much the same.

I agree with Jane, essentially, but when I think about myself over the last — oh, let’s say 7 years, I feel as if I have undergone some pretty big changes. What’s funny, though — funny-strange as opposed to funny-haha (or, truthfully, maybe it’s not funny at all) — is that the changes have mostly been all on the inside. Certainly, there have been some obvious changes in my life during that time — most notably, in my job(s) — but the ones that seem/feel the most important to me have been the changes in me.

So, ultimately and once again, it’s all about me!

(I need to remember this.)