Today I was trimming down a picture to fit into a frame. It was approximately one quarter of an inch wide. It had nothing of significance on it because I, like most sane people, made sure the people in the picture were not cut off. I then picked the scraps up to throw in the garbage.
And my daughter's thing-osis reared its ugly head. She wanted to keep it. She could see no reason why it should go in the garbage can. When asked why, she said that "she hated to see anything go in the garbage".
My usual compassionate self told her it was too bad. She wasn't keeping it, so she may as well kiss it goodbye (well....I didn't exactly say it that harshly, but I certainly thought it).
At supper I told her comrade about it. Again, rare compassion surfaced when he asked his beloved why she wanted to keep it. She again relayed that "she didn't like to see anything put in the garbage", to which he kindly told her that "because this thing didn't have feelings, it would have to go in the garbage, but that we would be happy to let her cut some trim any time she desired to use it for some art work".
Hmm. I admit that I never thought of that. In my defense, I am compassionate in about 80 percent of the situations (to his 20 percent), but because of my particular hatred of STUFF, I am somewhat lacking in this area.
So, comrade, beloved and barracuda were all content.