Eating my words, sorta

Yesterday’s post, about throwing away what’s broken, came up this morning when I noticed a coffee mug my husband uses. It’s an old mug, probably 25 years, at least. It’s a FarSide mug that our daughter or I bought for him so long ago we can’t remember who actually found it. It has a small, nervous dog making espresso on it, a FarSide comic. He loves it. So much so that it is chipped, cracked, and badly stained. I worked on the stain part this morning and got it clean. The chips and cracks? They’re still there.

“The grandkids got you a new mug, how about you throw this one away?”

“Yes, I like the new mug and I’ll use it, but no, I’m not getting rid of the FarSide mug.”

“It’s cracked and chipped.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still use it.”

“Someday, at your estate sale, people are going to wonder why the old man kept that mug. Was he decrepit?”

“No, just sentimental.”

I’ve lost this argument.

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8 responses to “Eating my words, sorta

  1. our talismans are precious to us as we see all that is passing.
    let me share a blessing with you both:

    “Let us never know what old age is. Let us know the happiness time brings, not count the years.” – Ausonius

  2. Yes, you’ve lost that argument. Husbands are like that sometimes.

  3. I have a cup that I got at a conference in Vietnam in 2002. I use it every day and would really miss it if it were gone. I know how he feels. 🙂

  4. Great post. Yes all those old things have sentimental value. Even husbands.

  5. Aw, let him have his way.

  6. Yes you did, but in the nicest way.

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