German Ingenuity

She is exacting. Precise. Efficient.

Waste not want not is her rule.

My mother, in the most complimentary of ways, describes her as being very German.

Because when Margot cooks, everyone is well fed with no leftovers.

Margot discards a pair of shoes before purchasing new ones.

And when she travels, her suitcase is not full of  new clothing; instead, she packs attire earmarked for donation—then leaves it in hotel rooms along her journey post-wear.

Margot arrives home with a lighter suitcase than when she began, no laundry to do, and the    satisfaction from having made clothing donations to the less fortunate.

And it is Margot who inspired me recently on an overnight stay in Manhattan.

I packed my toiletry bag with a current end-stage-of-life toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste with two squeezes left, and a nearly-ready-for-the-garbage stick of deodorant. My makeup bag consisted of items that were either unwanted, old or nearly empty. I slept in an old tee shirt, tattletale gray socks and pajama bottoms with dried out elastic.

And in the morning I left it all behind.

I walked from my hotel to Penn Station—23 streets and 2 avenues.

I also walked part of the way home from the train station.

Neither my back, knees nor neck hurt.

In all ways my load was light.

I was free—arriving home with  little dirty laundry and a less-cluttered bathroom cabinet.

I felt pretty good about myself.

And it was all because of Margot—and her German ingenuity.