After running by my house to drop off the bag...okay, the bags (with a capital S at the end), I called to check on my son, who was spending the night away from home, and let the dog out. My friend was waiting for me to freshen up, as we were joining another for a grown-up evening out at a new cafe and later, a local pub. I decided it would be the perfect time to wear my snazzy new brown boots, but when I took them from the box, I noticed the sales clerk had forgotten to remove the ink-filled security tag.
I should mention the city I refer to often in my posts is about an hour's drive from here. Not only was I not going to be able to wear my new boots right away, but I was now going to have to drive all the way back to the store to have the bloody security tag properly removed.
For a few moments, I was so unbelievably irritated... then I realized what a true and total first-world problem this really was, on par with 'how can I keep red wine from spoiling once I open it?' (Answer: wine preserver) and the fact that my dishes don't match.
They don't let me forget where I've come from, and how to bring the lessons learned there into where I'm going.
There were some really lean years when I could never have afforded to host any kind of parties, much less take off to the city for not one, but two new pairs of boots. I don't like to think of those times too much, but it does humble me to remember them at least once a day, usually when I'm setting the table for dinner. This old assortment of dishes remind me to be so, so grateful for where I am now.
So, while it's quite a luxurious first-world problem, this whining about having to make a two-hour round trip just to have a security tag removed, it does me well to remember from time to time that it's quite a luxury to have such a benign, first-world problem to begin with. If this was the major annoyance of my week, well, I'd say it's a pretty blessed life these days!
Happy first work week of 2015, everyone!