A memory becomes tidier every time you tell it. A notebook tends to remain inconveniently specific. Mine includes the shopping list, the window measurements, and three different accounts of the same Thursday. The ordinary details are the ones I find myself coming back to.
This was supposed to be a page about a small terrarium. It has become a record of visitors, unaccountable noises, and the increasingly elaborate explanations my household supplies for both. I have kept the notes in order. Mostly.
I have kept the receipts for lunch. Their relevance has been questioned, but never their authenticity.
Retained correspondence: Replacement guide note.