I didn’t fully realize I was leaving my old job until I washed and packed my favorite mug. Here and now, I thought, I am leaving the company. There werent’t many decorations to rip from the walls, as the few postcards I’d hung had at the time been considered an extravaganze by my colleagues (who seemed keen on keeping the walls uncluttered).

My first day on the new job I am still to find a way to make the vending machine stop spitting a plastic cup in my mug. Mugs matter. More than happy-family-photo-frames as far as I’m concerned.