As a somewhat frugal person, I share a trait common to a lot of people. I hang onto things way beyond a reasonable time frame. Mostly, it’s because once I do break down and spend the money, it is usually an expensive endeavor.
Take my home office for example. I was blessed to purchase a home where cabinetry had been installed for some administrative purpose. It tickled me pink to have the bones of this necessity already in place because creating such a space would have meant big dollar signs and likely never been undertaken.
Mr. Harris eventually relocated the whole infrastructure into another room for me to make the surroundings more conducive to my craft. That saved a whole bunch of bucks, but nearly cost him a strained back. A do-it-yourselfer, he prefers to work alone.
Anyone else have a spouse who believes asking another guy to help move huge, unwieldly cabinets is not necessary? There were moments when I pondered how EMS would extract him from underneath the wall units if he lost his grip, but to his credit it got done with only a few serious scrapes and generous application of colorful vocabulary.
I have happily typed away from my command seat within this space for several years. Once a plush executive-style, it had deflated over the years. Then the laminated leather started to flake. Bequeathed by a friend who moved and opted not to take it, I have no idea when it was originally purchased or how long they had it. Still, it served its purpose. Other than becoming a bit messy, it was fine.
Recently my seat time increased quite a bit and during my dashes to the restroom or kitchen for a snack I realized I was leaving a breadcrumb trail of scrappy bits of chair covering. It became a point of contention. There’s nothing worse than just cleaning the floors only to have me leave a trail of debris.
There are so many things to cover in this stage of life that splurging — my words — on an office chair seemed excessive. “You need this,” Mr. Harris insisted. “I’m sick of cleaning up the mess.” His support of my writing process requires ongoing appreciation and if a new chair would make both his life and mine better, so be it. Heading to the office store for paper and ink, we made the additional purchase of a plush-bottomed chair.
He put it together in a jiffy. Rolling it next to the flaking, peeling one made me laugh out loud. What a terrible mess. Vacuuming up ash-like bits left behind, I started to look around. What else had I kept beyond a reasonable lifespan? What did I have that might be better served in someone else’s hands?
Are you holding onto something that really should be replaced? Can you bless someone else as you do so? I’m genuinely thankful for the chair my friend gave me years ago. From columns to stories and features, thousands and thousands of words have been written from that seat. It served me well, but I’m excited to think where I’ll be in my writing life when this new seat has become the frayed and ridiculous mess of the former one. Whatever lies ahead, I’ll type my way there in comfort.