Nice Things 2

I blamed not having nice things on my kids, but sometimes it's my fault...

A few months ago we bought the newest car we've ever had (not brand new, of course). I was going to register it for Lyft driving, and wanted to wash it before going in for the inspection (ultimately, I found out, it didn't really matter). The kids wanted to help me wash, and so I grabbed a couple rags and quickly went for it.

As I chose between one rag and another, I had this feeling -- Take the grey one. But the white one was bigger and looked more effective, so I blindly wiped. What I didn't know, and soon found out, is that there was some dried paint on the white rag, which scratched the crap out of the top of my car.

It's not the worst thing in the world, but on a new car? Ugh...
After it happened, all I could think about was those scratches. It bothered me to no end. Even though I tried to dismiss it or distract myself, I would always remember I had just scratched my new car, and a sinking feeling would bubble up in my stomach. This is why I don't buy nice things, I thought, half-joking; but it's kind of true. Having something new and nice is stressful to me. I put a sheet down in the back seat to keep the kids from ruining them...that's no fun. It's far easier to buy the cheaper, crappier version and not worry so much, especially with kids around.

But what really strikes me about this whole thing is my inability to let go. It's been a lifelong struggle, going over and over things in my head; regrets about conversations or decisions I've made. I ask myself why I didn't listen to that voice that told me to use the other rag? Why didn't I slow down and look before I wiped?

I guess we can endlessly replay memories in our minds, but really, we can't change a damn thing. So what's the point? Learning to let go to this degree is obviously still a struggle for me, but hopefully I'm better than I was ten years ago. Hopefully...

Oh well, maybe I can wax it out. But until then, at least I got a name for the car now: Black Panther (because it kind of looks like a panther clawed my roof, right?).