I panic at the excess of new things in my home. I appreciate age. Yet I have no mature cheese in my refrigerator, I have no aged wood at the soles of my feet. I smell only cardboard and plastic, styrofoam and metal. My walls are thin and my wallpaper cheap. The doors of my closets flutter and the washing machine has jumped out of its socket. If I could choose. I wouldn't be alone right now. But I am, and you are oblivious. I always bring oblivious with me wherever I go. I give it to those I love. I will be giving it away for Christmas..