I used to have an antique full-length mirror that was precariously perched in the corner.  I know, you are wondering how this pertains to earrings, but bear with me.
I saw an ad for a mirror that hangs over the door.  The cool thing about this mirror is that it is really a door that opens to reveal a jewelry storage area. Now we are getting somewhere, aren’t we?  I had to have it, I was obsessed.
I’m often obsessed with organizational things.  I am the person who has so many books about organization, I wanted to cull them to fit on three bookshelves.  I really did try to organize the organizational books, but I got bored and gave up.  They now reside on five bookshelves all higgledy-piggledy.  I’m ashamed to say that I’m all theory and very little practice.  But I digress.
I approached the mirrored case with adoration in my eyes.  Something in my life was going to be organized.  As I filled the case I was filled with pride.  I was doing it!  I was putting related things together in a logical place!  Those disorganized organizational books on the five shelves should see me now.  Theory was being put into practice!
I chose my most cherished necklaces to hang on the hooks of honor.  I put my watches in the little trays.  My rings fit in the slots so perfectly. Then there were the earrings.  This case had a section specifically for earrings.  It was begging to be filled with earrings.  It wanted MY earrings!  Yes, as you can see, we are coming to the crux of the story.
But first, let’s take a detour from the crux and take a short trip down memory lane.  I hadn’t worn earrings for over two decades.  I had a good reason. Those were the days when I was an inside sales rep and my ever-present headset was my most irksome fashion accessory.  That thing got caught on my earrings on a daily basis.  Since the headset was integral to paying my grocery bill, the earrings were exiled to jewelry limbo.  But now I had this case that had a section that just begged to be filled with earrings.  It wanted MY earrings!
The new jewelry case was glorious.  It was motivating.  It was inspirational!  In spite of my erstwhile earring apathy, I decided that if it wanted my earrings, it would have my earrings.  It deserved my earrings!
As I went over them, memories started flooding back to times when I wore specific pairs for special occasions. It was nice to see them hung there in their designated slots. There they were, lined up perfectly.  There they were, in all of their earring glory. There they were…taunting me.
It suddenly hit me.  I hadn’t had a headset-wearing job in ages. Maybe I could wear them again.  Why shouldn’t I wear them again?  As I was pondering this, I swear a pair of gold hoops leaped out of the case and dared me to put them on. Ok, it might have been that I hadn’t secured the hoops well enough in the case, and it was more of a fall than a leap.  However, that’s not how I choose to remember it and I’m sticking with the earring communication story.  There wasn’t anyone there who can refute those hoop-whispering encouragements. Besides, by then the hoops were in my ears and they could have been telling me all sorts of things.  No one would have been the wiser.
I stood in front of my newly-stocked jewelry cache and made a decision.  I was going to wear earrings again.  How could I deny the wishes of the hoops?  It would be wasteful! There are probably unfashionable children in some third-world country who would die to have a pair of sterling earrings shaped like Adirondack chairs.
I’d made my decision.  Everything was in place.  I had a plan.  I felt smug.  I even brought one of my organizational books along so it could see what I had done and report back to the others.
That feeling didn’t last long.  Suddenly I was aware that most of my earrings are silver.  It was now apparent that I would have to de-tarnish all of that sterling.  I could have just closed the door and pretended that none of this had happened.  I could have pretended that earring section didn’t even exist.  I could have, but there was pride involved here.  I wanted my smugness back.
There was no way around it.  I was going to learn how to properly remove tarnish.  This involved a trip to the bookcase where I keep my “how to clean” books.  I stirred a thick coat of dust into the air as I removed one of them from the shelf.  As I opened the book for the first time, it became apparent that silver polish was about to be my new best friend.

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