I washed my mug yesterday.
Like, really washed it.
With a scrubby.
And soap, even.
Some may be wondering why I am about to make a big deal about such a routine task.
Others may already know about my dirty mug and are appalled that I would do such a thing.
That mug wasn’t actually mine anyway. I borrowed it from the work kitchen and had it on my desk for the last four and a half years.
But yesterday was my last day at work, so it had to be clean before I returned the mug to the shelf in the kitchen cabinet.
Next week, I ship out and start a new job, so washing the mug and cleaning off all the layers of coffee stain felt like a fitting end to my time here.
Luckily, I am already accepting the fact that I will be starting this new chapter with a clean mug. This is going to be a big adventure, one that will be filled with…
more watches to stand;
more knots to tie;
more sea stories to share;
more sunrises and sunsets to enjoy;
more tacks and course corrections;
and many more cups of coffee,
plenty enough to get my mug dirty again.