…for having met the required standards of duty, performance, and personal conduct over the course of the last four-and-a-half years–ever since they were surprisingly gifted to me–and, simultaneously (and at the same time) to at least one other–by a former friend. While their terms of service and tours of duty may have been interrupted (certainly not at my behest), and while their discharge may be involuntary, it’s not due to misconduct on their part (around here, we don’t believe in making things pay for the transgressions of folks), although perhaps they’re suffering from some sort of psychological trauma that affects their ability to connect with others in humane and decent ways in order to complete their obligations. In that case, consider their honorable discharge status an act of clemency on my part. Bless. (You can check here to see if I’ve got any of the controlling factors or verbiage WRT honorable separations wrong. LOL.)
Regardless, or irregardless as the case may be, they’re headed (along with a bunch of other stuff from the same period in my life) for the Goodwill tomorrow.
Out with the old!
In with the new!
Excelsior!
Have you had a “Marie Kondo” moment** lately? And what did it involve?
**”Keep only those things that speak to the heart, and discard items that no longer spark joy.” Truly, words to live by.
My Bialetti coffeemakers arrived–from Amazon–in my driveway in February of 2017 with no note, no indication they were a gift, and no clue as to who’d sent them. Yes, Virginia, my first impulse was to contact Amazon and tell them they’d made a mistake. (Something such clever Secret Santas might want to keep in mind in these days of online, contactless, shopping–and gifting.)
By contrast: Here’s a replica of the great seal of King Edward III, gifted to me by the future Mr. Right in 1979 or so, after he’d been to a conference of Medievalists in Kalamazoo Michigan. It arrived, beautifully wrapped (one of his special talents, and something I’m hopeless at) with a sweet note including the words “may it someday grace the home you make.” It stays, forever:
I’m pretty sure that Mr. Right was far more aware of the way to a girl’s heart (as evidenced by the little bunches of nasturtiums he’d gather and place on my desk for me to discover when I got into work 40+ years ago) than was the other person, who–once I’d thought about it for a while–it occurred to me to ask if the gift had come from him. (I thought at the time, and still think, that anonymous gifts of that sort to a woman, especially a married woman, are a pretty low-class move. Perhaps he thought, if I ever announced his gift to the world, he’d achieve “plausible deniability” on the matter. Sadly, after the last few years, believing him capable of such deviousness, dishonesty, and game-playing is a given, rather than a stretch.)
PS: This is a really good coffeemaker, the fruits of which I’m enjoying very much. I’m still using my Bialetti hand-grinder, which I bought and paid for myself, and which doesn’t have unpleasant memories associated with it. And, quite recently, I’ve discovered this whole-bean product–Boyer’s Peru, Colombia, Honduras Mash-Up, which is excellent, and very reasonably priced at Sam’s Club.
I’m not generally one for those Please Help Me Sort Out My Life books, but it’s just occurred to me that a millennial Japanese woman and a nineteenth-century artist, poet, and textile designer may have more in common than might, superficially, meet the eye:
and
I believe that William Morris would agree with Marie Kondo that you should not look for the things to throw out; you should look for the things to keep (and keep them–to meld their ideas into a whole–only if you think them useful, they speak to your heart, you find them beautiful, or they bring you joy). And then you should simply get rid of everything that’s left over.
Probably a good model for clearing the cobwebs out of one’s mind, too.