Personality Flaws: My Own Personal Flavor of Curse

It may come to some of you as a bit of a shock -- a jar, even -- but I have some rather outsize flaws.

No, really.

One such flaw is a predisposition for things to match, be symmetrical, complementary. File that away.

Anyway, a while ago I got a set of dinnerware on hyperclearance -- the cost was much closer to "free" than its original price which, considering we're talking Williams-Sonoma, was tooth-rattlingly high -- that I thought would be ideal for spring-ish (Mother's Day, Father's Day, several April birthdays) or Easter-ish fêtes. Fine. I effected purchase and walked out laden with all manner of plates, saucers, mugs and a barely lighter wallet. I was pleased.

As I have since found out, another of my manifold flaws is a natural predisposition for a state of mind described, for want of a better term, as smugness. I don't swan amout smugly, of course, but I am very smug about my capacity to be smug on the inside. Hubris, if you catch my drift.

But hubris breeds nemesis, as I have also found out. Nemesis and self don't quite get along as well. Pride goeth before a fall* and the like.

In this case, it was manifested by my realizing that I had espresso drinkers in the census. Whenever we had people for any of the abovesaid fêtes, the strength of the company...a veritable majority of the fêtards...aligned themselves among those who prefer their caffeine without the dulling effects of supernumerary fluid ounces of water.

And I had no matching vessels to offer.

Which peeved me. It peeved nobody else, but it peeved me. I was tempted to mention this to my beloved, but pretty much all notions along these lines are met with Olympic caliber eye-rolling. So I withheld my speech. But for years -- yes, years...sad, I know -- I kept my eyes open for these.

One day, as I was chancing through eBay there they were. The matching espresso cups and saucers. On eBay. Not cheap** mind you. Not even cheap-ish. But it was a fair price. I put on my watch list, torn because the price wasn't as low as I would have preferred. In my trauma I neglected to heed the "Make Best Offer" option. When I returned to wrestle with my dueling dilemmæ, it had been bought for a "Best Offer."

So now, I must return, with wounded pride, to stalking these elusive vessels. Likely for another 3-4 years.

Now you know why my life is a meaningless nightmare of despair.

-J.

* Actually, it's "Pride goeth before a destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall."

** In fact, the espresso set was on offer for as much as the whole set of dishes, etc. had cost me. This posed another dilemma as another of my flaws is, er, pathological frugality.

Comments

MsCellania said…
Oh my God
This is what I am talking about.
You are really and truly back.
These are the posts I have been missing from you.
It took me 30+ years to complete a post-war Noritake china set, down to the iced butter dish (4 pieces). The very set I recently bequeathed to a favorite niece, who stuck notes in the dishes to describe their use.
Didn't you use these dishes last Easter? I remember a soiree featuring these dishes...
Joke said…
Here are the dishes last year.
rebecca said…
Smug? You?

Ms is right. You're back.

I prefer vexed to peeved. More girly, you understand.
rebecca said…
Ooh. Look what google did, giving me a big name and all.

It's Bec, btw, not that Rebecca person...
rebecca said…
As in (because I like seeing Google call me something I'm not) The Girl Who Cried Blog. Has anyone taken that officially, I wonder? It might be the name of my next effort.
Huh. You never struck me as the pastel polka dot kind. Weird.
Joke said…
I'm not really a pastel-polka dot sort of guy. That's the problem. I can't stand things not matching.

As re. the original set, I bought it because it was:

1- Really, really cheap. 8 place settings for something like $12.

2- They "go" with spring/Easter stuff.

-J.

PS Bec, have at it!
shula said…
I am unsurprised by any of this.

Is that Bec floating above me? BEC Bec. Or another Bec?

A confusing number of Becs in this world (making a note for when she's Ruler of the Universe)...
Joke said…
I think it's Bec Bec, or perhaps a disembodied blog or other form of cyber-spectral apparition.
BreadBox said…
This, of course, is why my dishes are like my socks. Completely, naturally and intentionally unmatched. And best used after an extremely thorough washing.
N.
rebecca said…
Yes, it was me-Bec. What? Have you lot been fraternising with other, newer and shinier Becs in my absence?
Joke said…
A shiny Bec? How perfectly foul. A Bec should be no more than satin-y, or ideally, matte.

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