Everything You Own, Owns You Back a Little Bit

One way or another, this picture to the left probably looks familiar to you.  If you are lucky, it will bring back fond memories of watching Snoopy and Woodstock retrieve a ping-pong table for Thanksgiving dinner. If you are not so lucky, it may hit closer to home.  It may be home.

I recently helped a friend sort through two storage units that looked pretty similar to this. They had been collecting dust (and rent) for years.  No pun intended, it was a weighty experience.  

Weighty because of the significant time and physical expenditure involved, and weighty because of the mental and emotional toll as well.   As the lock came off the door and it rolled out of the way, I knew immediately that I had to take a backseat role.  I would be there for support; to "grab that end while I grab this one". I could help with the lifting, but my friend had to do all the driving.  This was his "stuff journey" and it started well before I came into the picture.

Two days and two swept-clean storage units later, I came away from the experience even more convinced than I was before that everything you own, owns you back a little bit.  Possessions possessed possess. That is why we call it a vacation when we go away.  We vacate, abandon, and relinquish not just our jobs and daily responsibilities, but the ties to our other obligation ...our things.
And boy does it feel good! Anchors aweigh!

Think about it.  When you buy something, you agree to give up things you already own for that new thing: Your money and your space.  You sacrifice for it. It has taken something from you.  But it goes deeper than that... then you have to care for it: Clean it, store it, insure it, and nowadays...update it.  Heaven forbid you have to relocate.  Then you have to pack and move it.

What if a new "need" comes along and requires the space that your old "want" is taking up?  Like a crib or a work table?  Then you have to go through the mental exercises of lament or compromise or maybe even resentment.  I have done that before and it's a workout.

So this Christmas, instead of gifts, I am giving experiences.  I realize that this is a total Grandma-move and that yes, I am being that Grandma.  I am spending just as much money on my lovelies, but I am not burdening them with things.  They will get life instead.  Memories, interactions, etc.  December 26th will come and they will awake with happiness and freedom, instead of happiness and burdens.  Well, that's the plan at least.

"The wisdom of nature continues to teach humanity that the material...is immaterial."  -Jason Versey

Pee You Later

As a category 3 germaphobe, the advent of the self-flushing toilet was significant to me.  Sure, I had long since mastered the one-legged-foot flush but now not even the bottom of my shoe had to touch the toilet.  Brilliant! Or at least that's what I thought.  As awesome as these fecal-focused feats of technology are, it has become apparent to me that we need to change at least one thing; voice activation instead of motion activation. Here's why: You know how sometimes after you have done everything on your part to "close the deal" but it’s still not flushing so you’re waving your hand in front of it and pushing things that look like they should be buttons but they’re not buttons and before you know it you realize that you have touched the toilet way more than you ever touched a manual one? Clearly, no matter how many times you reenact the lifting of your tooshie off the seat for the sensor device, motion activation isn't the most reliable approach.  And you can't just leave.  You can't just abandon shit, so to speak.  You have to stay. So what I'm saying is let's make them voice-activated. When you are ready to wrap things up you could just turn around and say “get out of here”, or “it’s go time” or “bye”. "Pee you later?"

I think it would be a good change; and quite empowering too. Just think of how accustomed we'd become to telling crap to get out of lives.  Because frankly, turning our toosh to the problem can be too oblique; too passive.  Sometimes to avoid being 'stalled in the stall', we just need to assert ourselves, take action, say what needs to be said and hear what needs to be heard.  Kerplush!  Time to move on.