From New to Old, and Vice Versa

One's leftover is another's friend. My new pet fish is one of the lucky ones that escaped the jaws of a bigger fish at the other corner of the office. I was given two fish to choose from and picked the hyperactive one to keep, because a hyperactive fish would take longer to get bored of than an ordinarily active one. But still, it's only a matter of time before I give up and serve it as breakfast at the other corner of the office.

It's what the Chinese call the "three-minute heat", or the "new toilet". See, the amount of time it takes for a new toilet to smell just like an old is about the length of time our interest and excitement last for new things. Once a tint of "old" is seen, we'd long for something newer to replace it with.

Some people (quite a lot, actually, as I've noticed) have found different solutions to counteract / prolong the wearing process of new things, or at least attempt to trick the mind in believing something old is still new. Examples easily found in Chinese households include age-old plush toys that have never left their "This bag is not a toy" plastic packaging and saran-wrapped remote controllers. And it's not rare to find people leaving the protective films on watches and the LCDs of cell phones and digital cameras, but that's a transparent film so not too easily noticeable. But then there are the gold-on-black "UV Protection" labels on the lens of Ray Ban sunglasses, and the white barcode labels on the anything-but-white bottom of shoes.

I'm only interested in keeping a small fish, the one I have now is perfect. So I guess as long as it doesn't grow, I'll be fine with it. It's also very reassuring to know that if and when I do get tired of it, the getting rid of it goes to a good cause. One's unwanted pet is another's source of protein.