About a week ago, Fran wrote about the value of keeping a five-year diary, and this caught my attention. I think my father has kept these all his adult life. Unlike a journal in which one holds forth in detail about life, the universe, and everything, the appeal of the diary is its brevity and longitudinal nature. I imagine writing an entry, perhaps a gratitude list, as the last thing before turning out the light for sleep, a small ritual to make note of and close the day. And then to have this across five years — what potential for human archeology! Not that I assume people will necessarily read my diary after I’m dead and find it fascinating, but at least for myself while I’m alive it will help me track my journey. I like the idea of there being signposts in my life, even if I can’t and don’t want to go backward. I have the traits of an historian. So I bought one. I researched and decided to purchase a Levenger diary. Even at half price, it was still a chunk of money. But then, it has to last five years. (Fran wrote a post on where to find the various products.) My diary arrived today, and it is yummy: full-grain Italian leather; brushed brass metal; gold-edged, heavy acid-free paper. I chose to forgo embossing, and likely I’ll never use the lock, but here it is, my investment and indulgence.