Jack and I just celebrated nineteen years of marriage last week. One of the interesting things about being married that long is seeing things we use every day that we got as wedding gifts, and realizing they are nineteen years old. I buy things all of the time, but then never calculate how old they are after I've had them for a while. I recently went to the Title Nine warehouse sale. I went to the sale years ago and bought a coat. This year, I bought a new coat. When I got home, I looked in my check register to discover I bought my old coat in 2007. Yes, it was time to get a new coat, but I never knew how old it was.
Wedding gifts, on the other hand, have a precise age. The duvet cover on our down comforter? Nineteen years old. While the color is still fine, it is in reasonable condition, I wasn't planning on using it for nineteen years. I picked out a new one (one sale, of course) but Jack thought it was too flowery. The Boy overheard our conversation, and was torn on which side to take. Should he pick the side of his beloved mother, or side with his dad who doesn't want a bad cover that looks like an English garden? What is wrong with an English garden? This duvet was cheerful. Eh. I deferred to Jack and didn't get it.
The down comforter is also nineteen years old (gift from Jack's parents). Our steak knives from my cousin Matt and one of Jack's friends are still in service. The food processor from another friend is still working, though we had to get a new bowl and blades.
The sadder thing is looking at things that I've had since before we were married. Nesting bowls? Older. Pots and pans? Older.
I don't remember getting older. How did I end up with all of this old stuff?
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