“Trying to be happy by accumulating possessions is like trying to satisfy hunger by taping sandwiches all over your body.”
I have a mug. A pink one, with kitty whiskers. Because I am a proud self-identifying cat lady!
It happened one unsuspecting evening at our local district grocery store. I was browsing the aisles for a satiating solution to the pangs of hunger. And then I saw it. We made eye contact. And I brought her home.
Then took her to work. To give me comfort and remind me of my cat-lady-ness. To give me warming sips of coffee. To shine pink and bright among the generic grey coffee mugs. To tap on my shoulder and whisper; cats.
A gal needs fun-coloured means of porting warm drinks. A piece of her expressed in clay. A signifier that she is more than a typing mammal. She also likes cats and coffee.
Then, the horror. A new coworker started. And no one gave them a tour of the mug cabinet. So they picked the least boring cup.
Every morning. My hands were sans the pink mug. Without reassurance that life is alright.
The burden was all too overwhelming.
Thus, I plotted project ‘cat mug retrieval’.
I started work earlier than the aforementioned coworker. I kept my mug securely in my desk drawer. Indeed, I went into a full crazy-cat-lady mode. No clutches hold my mug but mine!
Why am I so petty and dramatic, you might wonder?
Because possessions bring on suffering and suffer, I did.
This was nothing but an overdramatic exaggeration of the events that unfolded. I am not yet that void of my sanity. Or am I?
Do you have a favourite mug?