“FUNNY’ PENSEES

I think I must still be in a bit of a funk here.   Feels like I’ve been A.W.O.L. from myself for a few days,  but I wouldn’t really know that unless I were coming out of it,  so I guess I’m just fine.   Maybe my earache is going away.

And so,  with this temporary funk,   something that I thought was really kind of funny several weeks ago is taking on a different meaning.

Here’s what gave me a smile this summer:

SAMSUNG

And here’s the bottom part:

SAMSUNG

 

At least I didn’t pay any tax for those items!

I had been to an estate sale and was very careful to pick out only those things that would be useful in my house.  Some hacksaws, and some other tools that I don’t know the names of.   Some kitchen utensils.  A few crochet hooks.  Candles  (for power outages).   I forget what else,  but they were all old, made many years ago when things were made to last, good quality materials and  good workmanship, useful and unbreakable.

Being reasonably careful with my money,  I thought when I get home I’d check the receipt and mark down what I had paid for some of the bigger items.    

So now I know what my “blacks” and “blues”  cost me!

I came across this receipt again recently, and thought about where I had been that day.     It was an estate sale.   The kind of “garage sale” where the public can enter the house and walk around rooms and buy just about everything in the house.  And in the closets.  And in the drawers. . .  .

Things which perhaps a few months before mattered very much to the owner.  And now, the owner is not there to care, anymore. 

So I get thoughtful.   I hope the owner of these things didn’t put all his hopes in what he  owned, or in what he  did to be able to own these things:  farmer?  doctor?  mechanic?  teacher?      I hope he hoped in things that will matter to him fifty or a hundred or two hundred years from now…or for ever and ever.  I hope he placed his hope in the only One who is worthy of our hope.  I hope he found that One who has earned for us, on our behalf,  a good next world.

As I use his things, now,  and then clean them, and clean all my things, and wash and dust and sweep and try to push back the center of Cosmic Entropy that seems to exist inside my house,  I hope I think often enough of my own next fifty or hundred years, or my forever and ever. . . .

pensees

. . . .perhaps take down from its shelf the “Thoughts,”  the “pensees”  of Blaise Pascal.   I remember he had a lot of good things to say about this matter.

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