Time in a Bottle

Back in the day when I had a real job, I was part of a big, fancy schmancy downtown firm and Kevin was one of the litigators with whom I worked. He was a great guy and always got me cards or flowers or fabulous gifts for every occasion. It wasn’t until well after one particular Christmas that I discovered the real thought behind his phenomenal token of appreciation.

First and foremost, he’s a guy. It’s not that I’m knocking men and their gift-giving ability, but I think many failed to get in line when they were handing out plan ahead genes; they end up scrambling at the eleventh hour to find something which even slightly resembles a gift into which they imparted a bit of forethought. Imagine my surprise that year when I opened a beautifully decorated box to discover the most exquisite hand-blown perfume bottle nestled inside. How on earth did he know? It’s not something you can find at your local hardware store.  He just smiled and accepted my profound thanks as if he’d planned it for months.

Although I can’t give him credit for coming up with the idea on his own, at least he had enough sense to confer with a co-worker to find something that would knock my socks off. The conversation, as later relayed to me by aforementioned friend, was along these lines:

K: I’d like to get her something she’ll love for Christmas this year. Any ideas?

R: Well, she likes perfume bottles. Why don’t you get her one of those?

K: Oh. Okay.

(ten minutes pass and he returns with a quizzical expression)

K: Um, perfume bottles? Empty?!?!?

Okay, maybe you had to be there, but it still makes me chuckle. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of gifting something that is actually packaging. Too funny! In any event, this came to mind in my current state of cabin fever as I anxiously perused my house for something blog worthy. (I promise you … I’m going to go out in the real world again soon!)

Over the years I’ve amassed bric-a-brac of all kinds. Miniature shoes, Starbucks mugs, compacts, perfume bottles. I can’t remember if it started with one I purchased or one I received as a gift, but my first fragrance container escalated into a full-blown obsession. There were many shapes, styles, sizes and colors just waiting to be discovered. Amazingly, despite my fading memory, I can still recall how each came to be part of my collection. The adventures may have occurred in the distant past, but the reminiscences are just as vivid as the bottles from which they emanate.

I used to love this kind of stuff and have been known to shell out a lot of money on these mementos. I’m learning, however, to be much more content in surrendering to the ambiance rather than the goods, and now instead focus on memories instead of purchases.

And there's much less to dust that way! Housework is one of my least favorite chores and I can think of no less than 1,476 things I’d rather be doing.