Since my wife, Sandy, and I are on the wrong side of sixty five, she decided we should "simplify" our lives. To her that means "eliminating" those things that complicate our lives. When I agreed (just a formality), she asked what we could eliminate that would most simplify our life. After some thought, I said, "Children and grandchildren." By the look in her eye, I knew that was not a good answer. In fact, I could tell she was thinking of painful ways of eliminating me.
After explaining to me that we were to eliminate material possessions, not people, she suggested we begin in the basement, that huge hole in the ground beneath our house that served as the final resting place of all those treasures one no longer wants but refuses to throw away. Fair enough I thought until I realized my treasures were the ones on the disposal block. She started with my saws. "How many saws does one person need?" I think that was a rhetorical question. I have a table saw, a radial arm saw, a reciprocating saw, an electric hand saw, a scroll saw, a regular hand saw, a hack saw, a pruning saw and few others whose purpose escapes me. After some thought it was clear to me that I needed all those saws. "When is the last time you used that saw?" she asked pointing at an old hand saw. Although I haven't used it in many years, one never knows. What if we have a power outage and I need to cut a piece of lumber? At that point she rolled her eyes and suggested that my brain had experienced a power outage years ago.
Sensing that I needed a diversion, I asked her about all the pots and pans we are storing. We have enough to start a William Sonoma outlet. We have aluminium, stainless steel, copper, cast iron, ceramic, Calphalon, tri-metal, and a variety of pottery. And then there are several crock pots, rosters, grill pans, and fondue pots. Having learned from experience, I knew better than suggest we eliminate anything cast iron. I threw some of those old black uglies away at one time, and I was sleeping at Motel 6 for two weeks. Needless to say, she was not keeping the light on for me.
My strategy was to suggest I throw away one saw for every pot or pan she threw away, but I was informed, "That's not fair. We need those pots and pans to survive. I use those to prepare gourmet dinners for you, and judging from your girth, I am doing a damn good job." Ouch!
We were soon back in the basement amid my treasures. "And what about these old tennis racquets? You use only one racquet, and you have fifty to sixty racquets taking up space down here." What she doesn't understand is that those old racquets are antiques. Sure the wooden frames are warped and the strings are broken, but they are true relics of bygone years. "Good," she says, "if they are so valuable, let's sell them and buy a château in the Alps." Another ouch!
Finally she informed me that this was all a part of an oriental philosophy of Feng Shui, and that if I eliminated my saws and tennis racquets, I would be a new man. I would be free of all these useless encumbrances to my happiness. But then I learned that the philosophy did not apply to pots and pans.
When I suggested that maybe we should "Feng Shui" women's shoes, I was again making a reservation at Motel 6.
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