Dilly-Dallying with Daisy: Where’s That Heat Coming From?


Ok, so, the lady I live with needs a name, and I know she’s not a fan of Hey You. So I’m thinkin’ about calling her The Boss. I think she’d like that. Funny thing about bosses, though, is that I hate being bossed around. I just get so bothered. I’ve even been accused of being indignant. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, the lady I live with (aka The Boss).

So, one day The Boss brings home this thing. Yeah, I don’t know what it’s called. At first I thought it was someone new. Yeah, like a new friend or something. I like making new friends. And I always seem to meet them in the weirdest places. Parking lots, hair salons, doctors’ offices. Well, I don’t really get out as much as I’d like, but…anyway, yeah, so she brings in this new thing. And I try to make friends with it. I’m real friendly.

The Boss set it up in the floor, and then she just left it there. I don’t get it. What’s it doing? It doesn’t talk; it doesn’t move. I’m trying to be hospitable, and there’s just no getting through to this thing. Suddenly it starts to hmmmmm, and then it starts to glow. Ok, so maybe I’m not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but this freaked me out!! The Boss thought my behavior was funny, which I thought was really rude. You know, like when you laugh at someone for doing something they can’t help doing? Like tripping over a dog leash or getting tangled in the bush while the dog is trying to sniff out its place? Oh my gosh I saw this lady one time who got all wrapped up in the leash, and…where was I?

Oh yeah. So I’m totally on my guard. I don’t trust the newbie. But the longer I sat watching it, the more I noticed I was getting kinda toasty. And honestly: IT FELT GOOD! See, I’ve got really short hair, and in the winter time I get sort of cold. I’m a warm weather kind of girl. Anyway, so I decided to get closer to this thing. And the closer I got, the warmer it got.

We’ve had the thing for awhile. I still don’t trust it completely. It still won’t talk to me except to make that annoying hmmmmmm noise. But it sure is a considerate thing. Whenever I start shivering, it starts hmmmm-ing away and glowing and making things warm. So for now, I’m content to let it hang out as long as it’s cold out. I don’t think The Boss would move it even if I asked her to, and besides, we have a sort of understanding. I’ve even started bringing my toys around sometimes.


Where Do We Store The Stuff?

The modern world is profoundly capable of generating stuff. And people have an inherent knack for consuming it. We pride ourselves on making progress, and we commend each other for accumulation. But when we’re finished with it, when the car has ceased to suit our tastes, when the cell phone is rendered obsolete by the smartphone, when the couch springs finally give way, where does it all go?

Goodwill or The Salvation Army or the church yard sale or the homeless shelter downtown benefit temporarily from our jettisoning the objects for which we once pined. In our never-ending quest to obtain we see these donations as benevolence for which we should be recognized. (Perhaps this is why we seek the tax write-offs for them?) We give away furniture, clothing, cars (boats too) to what we call worthwhile charities, although whether they are worthwhile or not is really not the point. This is how we appease our appetite for stuff.

But even those who benefit from our gracious giving will tire of their treasures (our trash). Either that or the stuff will completely fall apart and thus be rendered useless to anyone. When this happens, when the cars have been as pulled apart as they can be in scrap yards, when the couch only vaguely resembles its former shape, after the clothes can no longer be torn apart for rags,

where does it all go?