My clinging mind
Just as I love my uniforms, I also love my routines. On a typical weekday I leave the house between 7:30 and 9:30 a.m. (depending on the day), work straight through the day at my office, and go directly home afterwards. There is the exception of the Tuesday night subroutine, in which I detour on the way home to have dinner with friends at the Himalayan restaurant, and the occasional lunch date with Mr. A or some other lucky companion. But because I'm a creature of habit, and because the dogs start melting down if they don't get their dinner at about the same time every night, I rarely deviate from the schedule.
Today was one of the days when I deviated. Not only did I leave for lunch, but I made three separate stops – at the art store, the Chinese lunch place, and the comfortable shoe shop. Back at work, I spent some time under my desk trying to plug in some new equipment, and did an inordinate amount of extraneous walking around the office this afternoon trying to track down various people who are working on this big project with me. And after work I made three more stops, at the pharmacy, the veggie market, and the gas station.
Finally I arrived back at home, fed the dogs, and flopped down onto my bed for a quick break before dinner. That was when I noticed I'd lost an earring. And realized instantly that with every place I've been today, there's almost no chance in hell I'm ever going to find it again.
These are my current favorite earrings, the ones I was breaking in to be the mainstay of my summer earwear. I've worn them almost every single day for more than three weeks – ever since I got them. Now what am I going to do? It's as if I've lost a limb. My ear feels like someone's aiming a gigantic spotlight at it, the kind they use to promote movie premiers and supermarket grand openings. Every couple of minutes I catch myself reaching for my earlobe ... yeah, it's still gone.
It makes me think of all the people who lost so much in the South last fall, and people who are living with real and important losses all over the world right now. I realize that an earring is not much to lose.
Over my lunch of spicy eggplant I read a story about getting a tattoo: "something that can't be stolen, pawned, lost, forgotten or outgrown." As I read that sentence I thought, "Well, somebody could steal it – they could cut off your arm!"
That was before I lost the earring. I think.
Tonight I was walking out to search the car and it occurred to me again that even if I find the earring, someday I'll lose everything. Everything! I'm already getting wrinkles and the occasional white hair, and the other day I noticed a spot of what I think might be the dreaded onychomycosis creeping along my big toenail. Even our own bodies are not irrevocably ours. I thought, "Second noble truth, baby! Just sit with it." And I'm trying to. Still, I will be calling all those shops when they reopen tomorrow morning, just to see if anything's turned up.
In the interest of full disclosure I should probably mention that these are not 50 karat diamond chandeliers, but cheap, rustic pounded silver hoops from Thailand. And I actually bought two identical pairs of them, because I realized the clasp was likely to fail but I loved them too much to not get them. So it's not like the pair's ruined, it's just that now instead of having two spares I only have one. I will also confess that I plan to call up the store tomorrow and ask if they have yet another pair I can buy. Because I love these earrings and I want to have them forever, or at least for as long as I have ears.
It's interesting to notice how much anguish I'm feeling over this. There's an unpleasant sensation of anxiety or desire burning just above my solar plexus. You'd think that feeling would make me want to let it all go, but it doesn't – in fact it makes me want to hold on all the harder. Funny how that works.
Listening to: Prince – Joy in Repetition
Today was one of the days when I deviated. Not only did I leave for lunch, but I made three separate stops – at the art store, the Chinese lunch place, and the comfortable shoe shop. Back at work, I spent some time under my desk trying to plug in some new equipment, and did an inordinate amount of extraneous walking around the office this afternoon trying to track down various people who are working on this big project with me. And after work I made three more stops, at the pharmacy, the veggie market, and the gas station.
Finally I arrived back at home, fed the dogs, and flopped down onto my bed for a quick break before dinner. That was when I noticed I'd lost an earring. And realized instantly that with every place I've been today, there's almost no chance in hell I'm ever going to find it again.
These are my current favorite earrings, the ones I was breaking in to be the mainstay of my summer earwear. I've worn them almost every single day for more than three weeks – ever since I got them. Now what am I going to do? It's as if I've lost a limb. My ear feels like someone's aiming a gigantic spotlight at it, the kind they use to promote movie premiers and supermarket grand openings. Every couple of minutes I catch myself reaching for my earlobe ... yeah, it's still gone.
It makes me think of all the people who lost so much in the South last fall, and people who are living with real and important losses all over the world right now. I realize that an earring is not much to lose.
Over my lunch of spicy eggplant I read a story about getting a tattoo: "something that can't be stolen, pawned, lost, forgotten or outgrown." As I read that sentence I thought, "Well, somebody could steal it – they could cut off your arm!"
That was before I lost the earring. I think.
Tonight I was walking out to search the car and it occurred to me again that even if I find the earring, someday I'll lose everything. Everything! I'm already getting wrinkles and the occasional white hair, and the other day I noticed a spot of what I think might be the dreaded onychomycosis creeping along my big toenail. Even our own bodies are not irrevocably ours. I thought, "Second noble truth, baby! Just sit with it." And I'm trying to. Still, I will be calling all those shops when they reopen tomorrow morning, just to see if anything's turned up.
In the interest of full disclosure I should probably mention that these are not 50 karat diamond chandeliers, but cheap, rustic pounded silver hoops from Thailand. And I actually bought two identical pairs of them, because I realized the clasp was likely to fail but I loved them too much to not get them. So it's not like the pair's ruined, it's just that now instead of having two spares I only have one. I will also confess that I plan to call up the store tomorrow and ask if they have yet another pair I can buy. Because I love these earrings and I want to have them forever, or at least for as long as I have ears.
It's interesting to notice how much anguish I'm feeling over this. There's an unpleasant sensation of anxiety or desire burning just above my solar plexus. You'd think that feeling would make me want to let it all go, but it doesn't – in fact it makes me want to hold on all the harder. Funny how that works.
Listening to: Prince – Joy in Repetition
1 Comments:
I so much relate. I relate to that burning feeling in the gut in the wake of loss. I still think of things I lost years and years ago, still wonder where they are (a necklace that slipped from my neck in a Payson playground, an earring that seemed to disappear into thin air in my grandmother's basement, a gold t-shirt I lost on a trip in high school etc), and I still want those things BACK!
It makes me feel petty and small, but who cares? I like to think that those little things made my life nicer then and still would now.
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