Letting go

There are a few ways in which Alan and I differ. Being able to throw things away is one of those areas. Alan has a stuffed leather wallet whose seams are worn, ripped, and whose capacity to stretch and bulge has been exceeded. It's not that he doesn't want to buy a replacement, au contraire. He has a brand new, soft leather wallet sitting in its original box in his closet as we speak. It's been there for two years maybe? He won't throw the old wallet out until it can no longer serve its purpose.

This holds true for other things: 1) Jeans. Holes in the butt are perfectly acceptable. In public even. 2) T-shirts. Same as jeans, except t-shirts can become so ragged that the collar and armpits are disappearing. 3) Yogurt. Everyone knows the expiration date is only a suggestion, right? 4) The Paper Trail. Nevermind that we're technology advanced enough that we should be mostly paperless. Surely those bank statements and Jack-in-the-Box employment stubs from 1990 will come in handy during an IRS audit someday.

I can almost understand some of that. But carrying this around for nearly a year is beyond my comprehension:

It began with the card having a couple knicks and cracks in it. Eventually it finally split down the middle; hence, the scotch tape that's been there for several months. My theory is that Alan likes the attention it brings when EVERY SINGLE CASHIER makes a comment about it. He claims that isn't true. But those of you who know Alan, know that he can have a conversation with everyone he encounters and actually enjoy it.

The inevitable is about to happen, however. The card expires in 10 days. :-)