This MBP, as battered as my favorite cowboy boots but far from being my favorite as I have no other, keeps telling me that I do not have enough memory, my scratch disks are full, blah blah blah. As I sit here listening to my playlist composed of Jason Mraz, Ray LaMontage, Bon Iver, Nouvelle Vague, Pete Yorn and Imogen Heap in the past four hours and staring at colorful pages, I can’t help but wish that I too did not have enough memory.

I’m looking at colorful pages of…. ugly dolls and ugly books. They’re cute but they make me cry, and I don’t quite know why. My scratch disks are full.

I’ve found new homes for the uglies I used to own. They’ve moved on. I like keeping things that mean something to me but a few months ago, I found myself looking at some of them and wondering where they came from. I probably have MCI.