I drove my desert gold Nissan for over thirteen years. Toward the end of her life, my mom nicknamed her Old Smokey because one could not-so-clearly see where we’d been. Smokey was definitely not an environmentally friendly Californian. I was reluctant to take her through the car wash for fear that it was only the solidified oil-and-dirt-paste that held her together. Each of Smokey’s many dents told a story — or simply reinforced a lesson (like “don’t get on the freeway when you’ve worked nearly 30 straight hours; you could wander into the next lane and get us both killed”).
But eventually the day came when the aroma from her fuel leak overpowered the intended effect of my Hermes 24 Faubourg and I had to admit it. Old Smokey no longer served a useful purpose for me — that’s why I traded her in. I didn’t go back to the lot, retrieve her and park her permanently in my garage.
There’s usually lots of good stuff in my trash — this, according to my dachshund Clifford. He’s been known to wedge his fat little butt between the wall and the can, shove it over and wallow in his doggie deli. But the contents of that can no longer served a useful purpose for me — that’s why I threw them out. I didn’t go through the bag, scoop out the garbage and put it back in the fridge.
I will admit I’m what some would term … frugal. When an item of clothing no longer fits, I alter it as many times as I can until a fashionable rescue is no longer possible. So, every month there’s a bag of clothing — good, usable and tax-deductible, of course — on my front porch for a local charity. The contents of that bag no longer served a useful purpose for me — that’s why I gave them away. I didn’t hijack the truck, grab my crap and hang it back in my closet.
Finally, like most of you, my first stop each morning is the bathroom. There on the throne of my queendom I relax, reflect — and release. The contents of that bowl no longer served a useful purpose for me — that’s why I flushed them down the hole. I didn’t fish them out and put them back where they came from.
Speaking of which, an e-book ad popped up on Facebook the other day and screamed at me: “Get Your Ex Back!”
As I was saying …