The Last Tortilla Chip
I think I've mentioned previously in this forum the concept of "the last tortilla chip." Ian and I often go out for Mexican food. At Mexican restaurants, they give you free, unlimited chips and salsa. You can sit there and eat tortilla chips to your heart's content. Of course, by the rules of diminishing marginal returns, eventually those tortilla chips just lose their appeal. Sooner or later, you'll put a tortilla chip in your mouth and know with certainty... yeah, that was the last tortilla chip.
This last tortilla chip is representative of many things in life. Take, for example, the romance you were in at some point in your life that really outlived its usefulness. There was that discussion, or argument, or issue, or maybe just a look that told you, "Wow. Yeah. I'm done here." That was the last tortilla chip of the relationship.
When it comes to material objects, I've developed a test to see if an object is the last tortilla chip. Not sure whether you're done with it? If you have the means, lock it up in a closet somewhere for a full year. One year later, it'll be a lot clearer whether that object has any real use. Didn't go rescue it? Didn't miss it? Forgot about it, in fact? It's the last tortilla chip. Time to take the long walk.
Knowing with certainty that we're going to be moving - somewhere - next spring has left me in a constant state of watchfulness for the last tortilla chips in my world. It's amazing to me how many of them there are. I thought I had been good about keeping the clutter down, the noise, the debris. It's kind like when you suffer a bad breakup, and you think to yourself, "Well, Self - if I have to rebuild my world, at least I can rebuild it however I want." Only without the breakup. Righteous.
I'm ready to lose some weight... metaphorically speaking.
T.
This last tortilla chip is representative of many things in life. Take, for example, the romance you were in at some point in your life that really outlived its usefulness. There was that discussion, or argument, or issue, or maybe just a look that told you, "Wow. Yeah. I'm done here." That was the last tortilla chip of the relationship.
When it comes to material objects, I've developed a test to see if an object is the last tortilla chip. Not sure whether you're done with it? If you have the means, lock it up in a closet somewhere for a full year. One year later, it'll be a lot clearer whether that object has any real use. Didn't go rescue it? Didn't miss it? Forgot about it, in fact? It's the last tortilla chip. Time to take the long walk.
Knowing with certainty that we're going to be moving - somewhere - next spring has left me in a constant state of watchfulness for the last tortilla chips in my world. It's amazing to me how many of them there are. I thought I had been good about keeping the clutter down, the noise, the debris. It's kind like when you suffer a bad breakup, and you think to yourself, "Well, Self - if I have to rebuild my world, at least I can rebuild it however I want." Only without the breakup. Righteous.
I'm ready to lose some weight... metaphorically speaking.
T.