The imaginary future
I got an email informing me that my account for an iPad sketching app that I had previously used was going to be deleted.
The account is only used for sync between devices, not drawings, so the potential for data loss was pretty minimal. The account was due for deletion because I had not used it in over a year. I don’t even own an iPad at the moment.
But I still hesitated. I—get this—even thought about buying an iPad just so I could sign into the app again.
This is how programmed we are to avoid loss.
A similar scenario comes up a lot in my closet. I will notice some old shirt that I haven’t worn in forever, take it off the hanger, consider wearing it, decide against it, and put it back on the hanger, back in the closet... for the 14th time.
Why?
Clearly I don’t want to wear the shirt now and haven’t wanted to in the past. Why not donate it to Goodwill?
I likewise haven’t had any use for that drawing app, but still the drive is there to hold on.
With the app, with the shirt, I imagine all kinds of ways I will use it in the future. The track record is irrelevant... in the future things will be different.
This pattern shows up all the time in habits I aspire to and projects I’d like to take on or complete. It applies to tools, clothes, software—all kinds of stuff in general.
I’ve learned that track record is a reliable predictor of future outcomes.
But I haven’t entirely learned how to use that knowledge to combat the baked in allure of the imaginary future.
In this one case, at least, I was able to let go. I archived the email, didn’t buy the iPad.
But there are plenty of times it goes the other way.