I had a few people over the other day, they brought red wine, three bottles of red wine, I have good friends. When I opened my kitchen cabinet to retrieve the red wine glasses, I was met with horror and shame. Not only did I not have the red wine glasses I thought I did, I didn’t even have regular drinking glasses. My cabinet was sparsely filled with Mason jars and some mismatched white wine glasses that were given to me along with a variety of other mismatched finds. The friends that had brought the red wine asked, “These glasses hold wine, right?” Like I said, I have good friends, but I was so embarrassed to realize that I’m just an old hippie. Martha Stewart, one of my idols, would frown upon my collection and so I decided to buy some red wine glasses and maybe some everyday glasses too.
Since I’m working so much, I thought I might try to buy something online with a coupon I had. Then I decided that I did have one day off that the coupon was still valid for, so I would go to the brick-and-mortar store instead. On the chosen day, I had an appointment to go to first. Along the way, I spied signs for an estate sale and thought that might be a better route to go, before spending too much at the store, I wanted to check out the estate sale first. There’s nothing like going to an estate sale to put one’s choices into perspective. I had hopes as I approached the home because I could see someone leaving with a MCM treasure. However, as I entered the home, I soon realized that was not the case.
Instead of walking into a MCM dream, I entered a small cramped home filled with carefully priced items, most likely belonging to someone my senior, with a fondness of all things, not to my liking. I looked around, searching each level of the home to find something I might desire, but it was not to be. They did have a MCM built in bar in the basement, but the glassware was plain and not even one red wine glass in the assortment. It was interesting to see the boxes of buttons and brick-a-brac like my mother used to have. Old kitchen utensils that might be nice if I had a kitchen decorated in that fashion, but I don’t. No, I left the sale feeling deflated and realized that was not what I would want people to see when I pass. A house filled with stuff, nothing special, “What the hell was she holding onto that for?” kind of stuff and so I decided to head home and sort through my kitchen cabinets to see if I really needed glasses at all.
When I opened my kitchen cabinets, I was once again met with embarrassment and shame. Not only do I not have a nice set of glassware, I have old kitchen cabinets that we painted red because I do not possess the funds to upgrade my kitchen. I really wouldn’t want to anyway because I do have a boom-a-rang counter top that I love, but we didn’t do the neatest painting when we did them years ago and the shelves look all worn, but I never put forth the effort to do anything more with the cabinets, so there. I didn’t toss much, but anything with a chip in it, went. There were a few other items that I didn’t feel were worthy of getting to a thrift shop, so I tossed them as well. All in all, I didn’t get rid of much, but it felt good to lighten my load.
The experience got me thinking about other loads in my life. Why is that no matter how many times I clean out my purse, most everything goes back in it and it weighs at least ten pounds? Do I really need everything I have in that purse for all those, “Just in case.” moments I worry about? You should see my lunch bag, holy crap is it heavy filled with not only my lunch, but all the “In case I get hungry or stuck somewhere.” snacks, a knee brace, my umbrella, miscellaneous drugs (not the fun kind) and supplements. It’s like I have a need to be prepared for a worst-case scenario at all times. The trunk of my car is filled with survival items like a blanket, socks, shoes, a hat, mittens, sun screen, bug spray, jumper cables and bags of bags for when I go shopping. Oh, there’s more in there, but you get the idea. I have stuff, I have stuff in multiple places, permanent and portable for all sorts of situations, I have stuff.
However, it’s not just me. I realized we are a nation of people who have a need to possess stuff. It’s nothing new really, go to an antique store. There’s one near me that has multiple levels of stuff from decades and beyond ago. From a collection of thimbles (hopefully, you are old enough to know that word) to my personal favorite, swizzle sticks (once again, I hope you are old enough to know what those are) and everything in-between. Why the need for so much stuff? It’s fun, yes, but it also weighs us down. Some of us, way, way down. My mother became a hoarder in her later years. There was literally a path through the house. Going through her stuff after she passed, I actually felt like I knew her a little better. Her stuff was very important to her and anytime I tried to clear it away, she cried. I learn to respect her stuff. Hopefully, that won’t be my story. I don’t want that to be my story, but at the same time, my stuff is very important to me too.
Is it weighing me down? Yes, yes, it is. The idea of having to move my stuff is one of the main reasons I do not believe I will ever leave this home. I have gotten rid of a lot over the years because my kids claim it has no meaning to them, “Do whatever you want with it. I don’t want it.” Rip my heart out, throw it on the floor and stomp on it with stiletto heels while you’re at it, don’t want it…jerks. Not only do I remember how much all the stuff cost me, all the credit card debt I accumulated trying to give you everything I thought you should have so you could be like the other kids, but I remember how happy that stuff made you, even for a moment and for that moment, it was worth it. It was heart breaking to give it away, but I did my best to find them good homes with kids. Some kids that didn’t have much and others that belonged to a family I knew would respect the toys and how hard it was for me to give them away.
In the end, I really don’t need red wine glasses. I’m fine with what I have, especially since I don’t have many visitors. The visitors I do have know that I don’t have much, nor do I desire much and they’re okay with that. I suppose, as long as I have something that holds red wine and the food, I enjoy sharing with the people who care about me, I have enough stuff. Oh, someday I may have Martha Stewart quality tableware, but until that day, I’m okay drinking from a Mason jar or a mismatched glass I found somewhere. A glass that was given to me because that person knows I like pink flamingos and everything tiki. A glass that allows me to remember that someone thinks I’m special enough to give a gift to or thinks of me when they see something they think I will like. I like stuff, even if it weighs me down. Stuff that helps me feel prepared and safe wherever I go, stuff that helps me remember special moments and stuff that allows me to drink red wine brought to my home by a friend. Cheers!
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
Leave a Reply
Your email is safe with us.