It’s funny, but when I’m trying not to talk, I also find that my typing grows very telegraphic.
I had a friend who worked in the ER Intake so long that her letters were filled with shortened words. If I hadn’t developed my own note-taking shorthand in school, I would never have known what she was saying.
I’m done sorting through the binders, and they are all outside in a trash bag, awaiting pick up by the thrift store. But I need to get more stuff out there before I call them.
The sorting resulted in a small pile of shredder fodder, but I think that’s all there is. Except for the journals. I’m still mulling that over.