I don’t believe in regret. It’s not an efficient feeling and I am all about efficiency. (I should have been born German or Swiss.)
Before my enlightenment, one thing happened which would qualify as a regret, but I don’t think about it too often. It’s also personal, so I won’t be sharing it. Since I’ve developed my own tenets and started to live a life less encumbered by stuff that’s annoying, stupid and wasteful, I’ve done one thing which I would like to do over: getting rid of these shorts.
Now, they don’t look like much, but these shorts were Made in the USA by Champion. They were a magical sweatshirt material with a drawstring waist and they had pockets. (I can not impress upon you enough how key pockets are.) They were a gift from an old boyfriend in 1993. I wore them all the damn time. They were the perfect thing to pull on to run to the corner for milk or cigarettes. They were also ideal for biking, wearing over bikini bottoms and as house cleaning clothes. Before I became a grownup and started hiring movers, I also regularly wore these while hauling my own boxes.
When I changed apartments in February of 2012, I decided to get rid of them on a whim. They were old (though they still looked pretty good, considering) and it seemed a bit weird to hold on to something given to me by a person I hadn’t spoken to in over a decade. I try not to be sentimental about too many objects because they will weigh you down and wear you down. I don’t think it’s healthy to have reminders of lives long left behind around to haunt you all the time.
So I washed them, took a picture for posterity and threw them in a charity bin. It was the right choice, but I gotta admit: I wish I had a pair just like them all the time. I’d wear them for another 20 years.