About ten years ago, I began collecting Waterford Crystal’s 12 Days of Christmas champagne flutes. They issued two each year, and I was determined to own the set.
I have no idea why tbh.
The flutes are quite large and very ostentatious. They’re not expensive and gaudy enough for Melania Trump, but they’re too showy for a woman like me with a bunch of cats and no real belief in the Christmas holiday.
I was insane.
I had some weird idea in my mind of what it meant to be married, and in that version of my life, I collected champagne flutes and entertained during the holidays.
My visions don’t match reality. First of all, I’m punk rock. I smash crystal; I don’t collect it. Just ask the hotel staff at The Ritz-Carlton, Pentagon City. It was an accident — and a hotel that puts a wall of glasses and decanters in a room like it’s 1983 knows the risk — but I had a hardcore punk rock night of my own back in 2010.
More importantly, I don’t entertain people at my house for the holidays. It bothers my cats and gives me anxiety. I’ll just come to you, and you can do all the work.
But I started collecting the Waterford flutes, anyway, because I had blogging visions of being domestic and mildly social with some nice things on my dining room table. Wouldn’t that make for good content? Look at all those other food and mommy bloggers out there. Why not me? But I’d be the edgy domestic diva who also happens to know something about business and HR.
So now I have all this genuine crystal in the original boxes collecting dust and cat dander. If I’d spent that $1200 on something better, I wouldn’t stare at those boxes every Christmas and wonder what the hell was wrong with me.
What kind of depression-mixed-with-anxiety was I facing? Why was I in denial about my true self? Was I having an aneurysm?
It doesn’t matter. Those fucking champagne flutes have to go, which is what’s happening right now. They’re up on eBay, and the sales end soon. Some have nearly doubled in price while others aren’t lighting the world on fire.
I might recover my costs. Maybe not.
But one thing is for certain: the road to happiness is paved with experiences and people, not champagne wishes and crystal dreams. I’m happy to let these Christmas champagne flutes go to someone who wants them more.
And I plan on having a much better holiday season with less clutter in my house, heart and mind.