Okay....post number two (if you ignore the first dodgy toe dip) and todays subject of choice is the phenomenon of replacement anxiety.
Let me explain. As a nation, we like to marry. And as a nation, more than half of us like to divorce with equal enthusiasm. That isn't to say that there aren't many many happily married couples out there with a sparkle in their eyes and a spring in their step - I know that there are and I look upon them with envy. But in todays disposable society, replacement has become the norm - and this seems to extend to marriage as much as Ipods etc.
I myself have said the immortal words "until death us do part" more than once now and despite not yet being dead (clearly!), I have managed to wriggle free from one set of vows and move on to the next.
I won't lie, the sensation of separation was not a pleasant one and the experience left me mentally exhausted and with a few less friends - also about 21 lb's lighter so not all bad!
Now when it comes to refreshing other areas of our lives, some things are more heart-rending than others. For example, throwing away a pair of socks with a hole in is a non-traumatic event (for all bar your sock dependant OCD sufferers I do concede) and the joy of a new pair of shoes can often outweigh the sadness at having to get rid of the scuffed old faithfuls despite years of solid service.
Where it gets confusing is when it comes to cars. Yes, I know....cars?! Bear with me here.
As an officianado of divorce and the owner of a vast quantity of (achingly beautiful) shoes, I have experience of all of the above (bar the socks - not a big fan to be honest) but when it comes to buying stuff...you meet my achilles heel. I love to shop and size is genuinely no object! I have just paid a deposit on my next car (sooooooo excited) and now find that I feel HORRIBLY GUILTY about getting rid of the old one.
I had foolishly nicknamed her (cos she's clearly a girl car!) "Baby" - which seemed like a fine plan at the moment we met and took our first journey together, but now that I have chosen to abandon her for a shinier newer model, the guilt is beyond overwhelming. I cannot bring myself to look at her. I wouldn't be surprised if she failed to start in the morning.
Now I am not alone in this. A dear friend has this weekend purchased a new laptop, having spent the last four years with her much older and sadly memory-challenged university laptop, affectionately named Fred (name changed to protect "Fred's" anonymity), and the poor girl is wracked with guilt. I can barely speak the name Fred without it illiciting wails and sobs.
So my question for today is as follows: Is a husband more dispensable than an inanimate object? (Complicated by my suspiscion that many divorced women would describe their ex's as inanimate objects!)
I promise dear blog-readers that I will continue to buy cars and ipods and shoes if only to reach a firm conclusion to this crucial question.