Day 11: The Tale of the Mason Jar

     At the start of 7: Month 1, Mike and I planned to give away 7 items each day for the entire month. With that goal in mind, by Day 11, we should have accumulated 77 items to go out. 

     Want the current total? 320 items. 

     I guess I thought this would be hard. When I explained Month 1 to my friends, the repeated response was, "7 things? Everyday?! You'll have nothing left!" I assure you. My house is plenty stocked...almost embarrassingly so, considering the amount of extrication we've done. I've been through my closet, my bedroom, my jewelry chest, my kitchen, my pantry, my linen closet (that was scary), my living room, and my dining room. That's the whole first floor. And, the most bizarre part? I feel like I've sacrificed nothing. I haven't missed even one item. As I added things to the "give away" pile, I grew more and more distant from my stuff. It's just stuff! I walk into the 7 storage room in our house (it's getting a little crowded in there) and I feel relief...not sadness.

      Now. I have an admission to make. I feel guilty telling you about it. But, tell, I shall, because you will likely enjoy the story and I need to make a point. I have a thing for Mason jars. They're just cute. They hold fireflies, lemonade, flowers, and pretty much anything Southern. Anytime I can slip a Mason jar into the situation, it gets infinitely better. When I hold one, I get all "Bless her heart" and my pretty, little southern drawl makes a comeback. My point: I love 'em.

     Anyhow, Martha Stewart would be impressed with my desk at work. Everything has a home...in a pretty little container. The centerpiece of the cuteness was a big 16 oz. Mason jar. Did I mention I love Mason jars? Well, in a truly tragic incident, complete with 16 3-year-olds and a lovely afternoon teacher, my Mason jar (or, the thousands of pieces that used to be my Mason jar) found a new home: the trash can. In an attempt to curb my wrath, this precious teacher wrote me the most over-the-top apology letter in the history of the world. (He must've sensed my ridiculous attachment to my jar.) So, you would think, because my life is centered around learning about the worthlessness of possessions right now, I would hold my head high and laugh it off. I did not. In fact, my gut reaction was to take the eye-for-an-eye approach. My Mason jar for his firstborn son. After cooling off, however, I took a different approach. I remembered that I bought the jar from Wal-Mart, I reigned in my inner Southern Belle, and remembered the thing I've been learning this month: People are always more important than things. So, I tracked down the breaker of the jar, I gave him a hug, and I told him he could buy me another one for the low, low price of $20. Just kidding. It's just a jar. Sheesh.