I occasionally become attached to inanimate objects. I realize 'things' do not have feelings, relationships or souls. Having said that, I still hate to part with some things that seem perfectly good and some that aren't so good any longer.
All kinds of things fall into this category. I remember a green station wagon our family owned. I just loved that vehicle. While on vacation in Michigan, a driver who was not paying attention, slammed that car. We were all safe, but I cried when we had to leave it in Michigan. It seemed it would have been better if it had at least ended up in a salvage yard in it's home state of Indiana. I'm not sure why; it wasn't like I was going to go visit.
I can't seem to throw any left-over food away either. (I blame that on my mother.) That is, until I find the container in the back of the 'fridge two weeks later and can't quite discern exactly what it was originally. Then it is easy to dispose of it; the sooner the better.
I am definitely not a hoarder. I release many things to the trash can or recycling bin without a second thought. But...when I recently had two large tropical plants which no longer were growing like they were supposed to, I had a hard time throwing them away. One of them lost all the bottom branches and consequently resembled a coconut palm tree. They sort of seemed like old friends. (I really don't discard my human friends for any reason, not even if they look like palm trees.)
I like to say 'things are just things' and move on with life; however, some things are so much harder to pitch. This whole post is leading up to my recently semi-deceased coffee pot. I had a special bond with this coffee maker. It sat on my counter because I used it EVERY single day and sometimes twice a day, for several years. It was the standard coffee pot, not the one-cup frou-frou pots everyone has today. Since my cup of coffee is an ever-present fixture in my hand, I would be making single cups all day long if I had one of those. It stood me in good stead forever. It didn't even succumb after a few times I forgot to turn it off (no automatic shut-off) and had molasses on the bottom of the pot. It kept the liquid at near-boiling point and I could pour that first cup while it was still brewing and it would stop until I replaced the carafe. Yes! What a friend!
One morning, the unthinkable happened. I grabbed the handle of the carafe and was nearly wearing the entire contents. What the heck! Then I realized the handle had come un-glued at the top.
My last resort was to open the box containing a new pot I bought a year ago on Black Friday. I knew immediately this new one was a cheap (it was a Black Friday deal, remember?) flimsy imitation of my beloved coffee pot.
I moved the old pot to another counter in the kitchen. I still couldn't throw it out. Surely some bright idea would come to mind. After all, it was perfectly good. Maybe I could sell it in an upcoming garage sale. Then at least it would have a home and someone surely had a carafe setting around without the pot part. OR, better yet, maybe I could find a carafe for it at a garage sale.
I left it on the counter for a week. Every time I walked past it, I felt like I was at a viewing at a funeral home. I offered myself condolences and then the day came when I couldn't have it taking up space on my counter any longer and it went directly into the garbage bin. I think of it occasionally but not every day.
Now, my thoughts since then have been a bit more personal. When I am no longer useful because I have come 'un-glued' (some people who know me might argue that has already happened) and my kin can't find any replacement parts for me, will they eventually get tired of my taking up space and find a 'place' for me? If they do, I hope they remember me fondly.