In the compass of my admittedly shallow experience, the triflings of my existence have today changed from off-key to Middle-C. I had begun to think that the Forces of Evil had conspired against me; dissonance characterized my universe. To begin, several days ago I discovered by accident when examining my Moissanite "gem" in my pinky ring that there was an unmistakeable smudge on the centre flat surface resembling a small oil slick. As with any of these ostensibly negligible issues I at first pretended to ignore it. But my obsessiveness kept me re-examining the stone to see if by chance I had possibly been deceived by the mere refraction of light. I cleaned the jewel every morning as usual with Ivory dish soap and an old toothbrush. But the stain persisted. Because the blemish was so difficult to isolate (the exact light and angle were required), I entertained the further possibility that the smear was an anomaly only, a mere accident of circumstance, one that might never be repeated. This thesis also gave way in short order. Finally I concluded that the stone was defective and forever stained.
This might have been the end of the matter as it coincided with yet another unpleasant and irreversible experience currently on the map; namely, an abrasion of the chrome rim of my Cadillac's right, front wheel. I had stupidly attempted to park too close to a curb, something I've done before (though I replaced the entire rim when that happened). On this occasion the scuff was barely visible and if I hadn't felt the resistance when parking the car I might never have been the wiser. In order to minimize this particular catastrophe I engaged in endless philosophical rumination about the rough and tumble of life, its patina and all that sort of practical rubbish. Secretly I wanted to have the damn thing repaired. But two factors mitigated against that tact: one, the mark was so minor as to be hardly noticeable; two, I have already placed an order for a new Cadillac which is supposed to arrive late August.
The combination of these two abuses to two of my favourite things succeeded to disrupt my psyche. Of course I recognized how preposterous this admission was but confession did absolutely nothing to engender a resolution of the problems. I was stuck with them and I didn't like it.
Sometime early this morning while I was still in bed I decided to consult Google on my iPhone about the blemish to my Moissanite. To my complete surprise I was instantly able to locate a conversational thread which dealt with the identical problem I was having. The description of the smudge was precisely as identified by me. The solution was silver polish. As luck would have it, just the other day we had purchased two containers of Twinkle silver polish "for long lasting beauty" to clean the silver collars on the Port and Sherry decanters. When I applied the Twinkle to the gem, the smudge disappeared! The Google thread attributed the smudge to either suntan lotion or hair products (both of which I regularly use when bicycling and to keep my lengthening hair in order). Considering both products likely have a petroleum base it is not surprising that the effect of the contamination was that of an mini oil slick.
I have since talked my way out of the wheel rim problem. I know for example that there is already a small scrape underneath the front bumper where I failed to clear a parking abutment. Granted I had a pinecone dent on the hood banged out professionally, but I have convinced myself that these other very minor (and largely unremarkable) dings are tolerable. Let's face it, it's only a matter of time before another happens in any event. I could spend the rest of my life running after these inconsequential scuffs. Only last week our cleaning lady emailed us that she had inadvertently scratched our mahogany bureau (which we were able to "repair" with some paste finishing wax). The destiny is inevitable! I have now adjusted to what I believe is an acceptable (and predictable) level of material abuse along the line of a forgivable "patina". As I glance about me I see there is nothing that hasn't been on the receiving end of some minor misuse. For Heaven's sake, I need only look in the mirror to see the wreckage of Time! Nonetheless the purification of the Moissanite is an elevating event. The character of the two interferences is quite different; one (the car) was inevitable; the other (the gem) was intolerable. Reviving the Moissanite permitted a complete recovery of its purpose. The car will endure in spite of the abuse.
The narrow spectrum of my being bears repeating as its refinement (if I may dignify myopia as such) exponentially heightens the importance of my stuff to me. Perhaps I am simply making excuses; the truth is I have always been captivated by the detail of my jewelry (especially I might add upon the third sip of a frozen martini while sitting in my fireside den reading an improving British novel in the late afternoon). On s'amuse!
This might have been the end of the matter as it coincided with yet another unpleasant and irreversible experience currently on the map; namely, an abrasion of the chrome rim of my Cadillac's right, front wheel. I had stupidly attempted to park too close to a curb, something I've done before (though I replaced the entire rim when that happened). On this occasion the scuff was barely visible and if I hadn't felt the resistance when parking the car I might never have been the wiser. In order to minimize this particular catastrophe I engaged in endless philosophical rumination about the rough and tumble of life, its patina and all that sort of practical rubbish. Secretly I wanted to have the damn thing repaired. But two factors mitigated against that tact: one, the mark was so minor as to be hardly noticeable; two, I have already placed an order for a new Cadillac which is supposed to arrive late August.
The combination of these two abuses to two of my favourite things succeeded to disrupt my psyche. Of course I recognized how preposterous this admission was but confession did absolutely nothing to engender a resolution of the problems. I was stuck with them and I didn't like it.
Sometime early this morning while I was still in bed I decided to consult Google on my iPhone about the blemish to my Moissanite. To my complete surprise I was instantly able to locate a conversational thread which dealt with the identical problem I was having. The description of the smudge was precisely as identified by me. The solution was silver polish. As luck would have it, just the other day we had purchased two containers of Twinkle silver polish "for long lasting beauty" to clean the silver collars on the Port and Sherry decanters. When I applied the Twinkle to the gem, the smudge disappeared! The Google thread attributed the smudge to either suntan lotion or hair products (both of which I regularly use when bicycling and to keep my lengthening hair in order). Considering both products likely have a petroleum base it is not surprising that the effect of the contamination was that of an mini oil slick.
I have since talked my way out of the wheel rim problem. I know for example that there is already a small scrape underneath the front bumper where I failed to clear a parking abutment. Granted I had a pinecone dent on the hood banged out professionally, but I have convinced myself that these other very minor (and largely unremarkable) dings are tolerable. Let's face it, it's only a matter of time before another happens in any event. I could spend the rest of my life running after these inconsequential scuffs. Only last week our cleaning lady emailed us that she had inadvertently scratched our mahogany bureau (which we were able to "repair" with some paste finishing wax). The destiny is inevitable! I have now adjusted to what I believe is an acceptable (and predictable) level of material abuse along the line of a forgivable "patina". As I glance about me I see there is nothing that hasn't been on the receiving end of some minor misuse. For Heaven's sake, I need only look in the mirror to see the wreckage of Time! Nonetheless the purification of the Moissanite is an elevating event. The character of the two interferences is quite different; one (the car) was inevitable; the other (the gem) was intolerable. Reviving the Moissanite permitted a complete recovery of its purpose. The car will endure in spite of the abuse.
The narrow spectrum of my being bears repeating as its refinement (if I may dignify myopia as such) exponentially heightens the importance of my stuff to me. Perhaps I am simply making excuses; the truth is I have always been captivated by the detail of my jewelry (especially I might add upon the third sip of a frozen martini while sitting in my fireside den reading an improving British novel in the late afternoon). On s'amuse!
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