extras

I had planned for my next post to be about tiny houses and minimalist living, and don't worry, I'll get to that soon. I am currently in the midst of selling roughly 85% of what I own and trying to fit the rest into my car, and that's going swimmingly. I do have thoughts on it, but this morning I was thinking of other things. As I get closer to leaving Nashville, I get more aware of tiny things that I take for granted, that won't be the same after two weeks from now. For example, my favorite mug that I use every day to drink tea out of. In Maryland and on a ship for the rest of the year, I will still drink tea every day. But it won't be out of a violin mug.

More than mugs, though, there are some nameless regulars in my life that I see pretty frequently and converse with, that I might never see again once I leave. The extras in my life story that pop by for a conversation, that you won't even remember by the end of the movie. I don't know their names, but they are there, and they are important.

I go to Harris Teeter a lot. It's a few blocks away from work, so it's quick and easy to stop by for food on my way to work or in the middle of the day. There is a very friendly red-haired lady who works there, and she is always so cheerful even when she's not having a good day. We actually talk to each other a lot (because she's the type to really tell you exactly how she's doing, instead of just saying "fine" and letting you go) Despite being raised by an outgoing southern mother, I still have frozen northerner tendencies, usually not liking to go beyond two sentences about how fine our day is going, and maybe the weather. My grocery lady always cheers me up and jokes about how the self checkout never works properly, and when she tells me she hopes I have a good day, I know she means it. I'm going to miss seeing her.


Nashville has a street newspaper that the local homeless or recovering homeless sell on the corners. A new issue comes out every two weeks, and it's only a dollar. I always buy one from the same man who sets up on a corner on my way to work. We've talked a lot, because it's at a long stop light, and he is always optimistic and cheerful. He sometimes has a big white beard and always wears a Santa hat at christmastime. We've talked a lot over the last year or so since I've been buying his paper. We've agreed about how money can't buy happiness, but our perspectives are different. I made around thirty times the money that he made in 2012 - how can I complain about being poor? How can I joke with him about money not buying happiness as I sit at the stoplight in my Acura, wearing sunglasses that cost more than he might make on a rainy day? It's good to have people like this, and I'm going to miss seeing him.

I know I'll form new routines wherever I go, and that's all right. There will always be extras, but I just wanted to write about these two. It's interesting that I find myself so melancholy about leaving people whose names I don't even know, but I guess that just happens when there's a big scene change.