Sold!!!

I know it's just a machine. I should not attach any kind of sentiment-positive or negative-to something so materialistic. The very fact that I am writing yet another blog entry about "the seadoo", reinforces my decision to sell it. The very item that caused me so much grief last year on my trek north to the cottage, was already beginning to, once again, weigh heavily on my mind as the warm summer months creep steadily closer. I have learned to listen to that voice inside my head. I have learned to pay attention to that sick knotted feeling in my stomach. I have finally learned that if I want to own any kind of mechanical apparatus, it had better look at home in my kitchen and produce something edible. Even then, success is not guaranteed (hence the dream of learning to cook in Italy).

I was tired of seeing my seadoo taking up precious garage space, and annoyed with parking my one cooperative vehicle so close to the overhead gargage door that I feared the sound of metal on metal each time I closed that door. As a result, I made my annual call to my local Seadoo dealer, determined to rid myself of this nagging machine once and for all. Of course, he didn't put much faith in my determination, as I had made the same call, at the same time of year, for the past three years.

"Are you sure you really want to sell it this year, Joanne?" (disbelief mixed with just a pinch of annoyance)

"I'm sure. I want that thing out of my garage. I don't want to have to think about it or fix it. I want it gone." (said with much conviction, but like I said, he had heard it all before).

True to his job though, he did put the word out, and called me each time with the offers, until one finally came through that I was not going to pass. As much as I wanted my nemesis gone from my life, I had done my homework, researched the going prices, and I knew that the time of year was in my favour.

This past Sunday, as my Seadoo dealer man backed his pick up truck into my driveway, hooked up my seadoo, and then drove off, an incredible feeling of lightness settled inside me. It was more than ridding myself of the stress of maintaining another vehicle. It was more than having my garage back. It was a purging of the last materialistic item that I had brought with me from my married life. A feeling of calm acceptance, and giddy freedom filled me. I felt like dancing, and I felt like singing- very loudly.

Over-analyzing? Perhaps, but as a close friend of mine recently pointed out to me, I seem to have the capability (or maybe the curse) of philosophizing about such mundane things as my laundry. So I guess the farewell of a reminder of who I once was, compared to the person I feel like I am growing into, should be worthy of a few minutes of celebration, and of course, analysis.