loving things

Whereas it seems very foolish to fall in love with things rather than people, places, ideas, and adventures, it seems equally foolish to have things that you're not in love with.


My most recent material love is my new pickup truck, even though I have only driven it once due to the current non-existence of auto insurance and license plates. I fell head-over-heels for my leather boots one fortnight ago, after I was attacked with the realization that they've given me three honorable years of reliable service, and I had not even once taken the time to wash or oil them (which I have since done, and enjoyed very much). I already knew that I was in love with my cordless screw gun, but when I thought it broke the other day the depth of that love was really brought to my attention. My trusty laptop failed last week, and it tore at my heartstrings. I fail to see any shame in loving inanimate objects.

Countless other objects would make the list, such as my bicycle, my little brown backpack, my jack-o-lantern shirt, and my rope. There are things that I own which I do not love (I don't think), and I'm wondering whether it would be best to let them go. In summary, love could be a good filter for purging one's life of excess goods.