I have a love/hate relationship with stuff. I love to buy things but I hate clutter so I also love to throw things away. As I become older and more crotchety, I have become more particular about the stuff I accumulate. I want what I want which means that you should give those chotchkes to someone who will appreciate them.
My mother loves to buy me stuff. And when it happens to be things from a link that I've sent her, that is wonderful. However, she also buys me lots of crap. I've gently explained to her that I would really prefer she not do this. She appears to understand but two weeks later I will receive a random something-or-other because it reminded her of me. Most notably, I received a small print of cats in people-clothes with eyes that follow you across the room. It's creepy. It's currently stowed in the guest bedroom because I am scared of it (and because we keep the door shut so I'm reasonably certain it cannot get out). I do also give some of the things she gives me away to people who would like them more than I do. I made the mistake of telling her the last time I did this and there was a meltdown. I maintain that once it's been given to me, I am free to do with it as I please and if you are so attached to the outcome, you should probably never give me anything. (I have yet to solve the conundrum of telling vs. not telling. I'm thinking the meltdown really wasn't worth it and I may have to become the person who "loses things".)
Because of the abundance of stuff (and other emotional therapy-worthy reasons), I'm not a big fan of Christmas. This year, my inlaws gave us taster dishes. It was an appropriate gift because Edward cooks a lot and we do a fair amount of entertaining. However, it's one more thing to store. It will be one more thing to pack and move when we leave our home. It will be one more thing we come across while cleaning out a cabinet and say "Oh, we should have used these for the Dungeon-warming party."
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. More than the actual gift, I appreciate the time spent looking for it and picking it out. Much of the time, I would be happy if the person took a picture of the item and sent it to me with a note that says "This really reminds me of you. I'd love to buy it for you but I know you don't like stuff so just know that I was thinking of you *and* willing to plunk down the $15 for a watch with a stripping Batman on it." That would truly warm the cockles of my heart because it means I am loved and it also means I don't have to figure what to do with something I will never use, wear or look at. And best of all, I will never have to confess that I gave a stripping Batman watch to my very confused niece.
I realize this makes me a difficult person to shop for but the solution is simple. Don't buy me things. I won't be offended and you save money. It's win/win. And if you do buy me something anyway, just know that I will really enjoy throwing it away.
Monday, January 16, 2012
35... Going on 80
I don't do resolutions. I don't "turn over a new leaf" come January. And I don't make lame proclamations that THIS is the year I will <fill in the blank>.
However, there's been a concept that's been floating around in my head for some time that's just finally come together in a cohesive thought. And it's my new philosophy.
I worry too much about what other people think. I worry too much about what I think. I wonder if the mailman thinks I'm a perv. I wonder if people at Walmart think I'm a hoarder because I buy 6 boxes of Kleenex at a time. When purchasing new deodorant, I try to do my sniffing inconspicuously so people don't think I have a problem.
Getting off the I'm-concerned-with-everyone's-opinion-of-me-including-people-I-don't-like train is no easy task. I don't care how old you are - no one wants to be the creepy kid eating lunch by him/herself.
However, it's not healthy, it's time-consuming and it's a killer of stuff-doing because you fear looking silly.
So, my detour around such ruminations is to ask myself: What would I do when I'm 80?
When I'm 80, I will fart audibly and unapologetically in Walgreens. I will gleefully present my AARP card to get discounts. I will fake frailty to get priority boarding on airplanes. I will wear hot pink hats to dinner because I FEEL LIKE IT. I will fling my dentures at my dining companion because it's funny. I will plant a hair from my head in my food and claim it's a pube to get a free meal. I will use and abuse my age as much as possible but above all, I will do whatever the hell I want. Why? Because I'm 80.
I think it's karmically acceptable to "borrow" my 80-year-old-ness a little early. If I'm senile at 80, then I'll be happy not to have wasted it. I won't have to write pithy essays about all the things I wish I knew when I was younger. I won't bemoan the fact that "youth is wasted on the young." I will bask in the fact that I borrowed my sass and used it well. I will gloat that I did the things I wanted to do while I still could.
Now go away. I need to watch my stories.
However, there's been a concept that's been floating around in my head for some time that's just finally come together in a cohesive thought. And it's my new philosophy.
I worry too much about what other people think. I worry too much about what I think. I wonder if the mailman thinks I'm a perv. I wonder if people at Walmart think I'm a hoarder because I buy 6 boxes of Kleenex at a time. When purchasing new deodorant, I try to do my sniffing inconspicuously so people don't think I have a problem.
Getting off the I'm-concerned-with-everyone's-opinion-of-me-including-people-I-don't-like train is no easy task. I don't care how old you are - no one wants to be the creepy kid eating lunch by him/herself.
However, it's not healthy, it's time-consuming and it's a killer of stuff-doing because you fear looking silly.
So, my detour around such ruminations is to ask myself: What would I do when I'm 80?
When I'm 80, I will fart audibly and unapologetically in Walgreens. I will gleefully present my AARP card to get discounts. I will fake frailty to get priority boarding on airplanes. I will wear hot pink hats to dinner because I FEEL LIKE IT. I will fling my dentures at my dining companion because it's funny. I will plant a hair from my head in my food and claim it's a pube to get a free meal. I will use and abuse my age as much as possible but above all, I will do whatever the hell I want. Why? Because I'm 80.
I think it's karmically acceptable to "borrow" my 80-year-old-ness a little early. If I'm senile at 80, then I'll be happy not to have wasted it. I won't have to write pithy essays about all the things I wish I knew when I was younger. I won't bemoan the fact that "youth is wasted on the young." I will bask in the fact that I borrowed my sass and used it well. I will gloat that I did the things I wanted to do while I still could.
Now go away. I need to watch my stories.
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