The Guest Towels
Pretty sure there’s an old comedy routine about this, “Never use the guest towels; they’re for guests, only!”
I know, for a fact, growing up in my parents’ house, the guest towels were clearly labeled as such, and under no circumstances, especially the pain of punishment of one sort or another, no, never-ever touch the guest towels. I suspect, to this day, there are some thin, almost crusty and threadbare “guest towels” still lurking — never used.
This thought process, more like a circus event of the mind, was triggered recently in El Paso where I was lodged as a guest at my friend Grace’s house.
- “Hey, I didn’t know which towel to use, so I just used that one hanging there, that OK?” I said.
“No! Don’t use those! Those are the guest towels! Yours is under the sink.”
The problem with being treated like family? Getting yelled at like one of the kids. I was thinking like a dog, but the dogs in that house are treated very well. Itinerant, migrant astrologers? Not so much. Like family? Sure.
Prepping for Saturn’s brief foray into Sagittarius at the end of this year, I’ve been consolidating. Less stuff. Minimalist. No dust collectors. No extraneous belongings to anchor me in the past.
I’ve got at least two altar spaces arranged, currently, sacred and full of material that should be there, images, icons, what an altar has and holds, sure. Gradually, though, I’ve been going through clothing. One item was fancy, yoke-cut, pearl-snap shirt I was “saving for special times,” and realizing, if I wait to wear it, in order to save it, I might never enjoy it. Wear it now.
Along a similar line, I don’t have any “fine china,” and I hope I never do. On top of my regular, some mismatched, plates I’ve got paper plates. About as formal as I’ll get, I hope.
There’s a generation that placed high value on the china, as it was a symbol of status. Doesn’t work in my world, like I said, luxury for me is a paper plate. There is too much to anchor our past with no hopes to move forward.
I currently own two, no, three pairs of Piper Sandals. One slip-on set, two traditional style, and the first set, the last time they were re-soled, the Pipers told me it was the last time for that pair, as they were finally worn out as footwear. 12 years, 10 re-soles? Yeah, semi-retired. I thought about hanging them in a shadow-box; however, I figure I’ll need them next time my current set has to be sent in for re-shod.
Last August, I let Sister have a pair of my Burnt-Cherry, Handmade, Full-Quill Ostrich Lucchese cowboy boots, as a present for her Texana garden collection. Means I currently own two pairs of boots, three sets of Piper sandals, and a few assorted sport sandals for fishing. Not much in the way of footwear. Boots and sandals — super simple. Sister got the boots because I noticed a new hole, and those boots had no repair left I them, having been stitched back together more times than I care to count. Super simple, two pairs of boots and two pairs of sandals.
It’s the opposite of stuff, it’s less and less.
The astrology is simple, as there’s a generational divide, but think along these lines, the “Boomers” are from parents who were born and raised in the Great Depression, a generation of lack. Material goods represent wealth that means stability.
More stuff. As their children, the next generation is saddled with “stuff that means something to someone.”
Simple goal: do I use it? Have I used it since I moved? Yes, keep. No? Toss. (Recycle, reuse, re-gift, re-sale, or donate.)
The Guest Towels, an example of something that has no value — not carrying those forward.
There is “Saving for a special occasion,” as everyday life should be celebrated as a special occasion.
To quote, “Smoke ’em if you got ’em!”
