The coasters

I'm a riddle. Wrapped in an enigma. Sometimes I'm difficult to please, but that's usually only in my waking hours. Other times, the simplest things bring me an unreasonable amount of pure, unadulterated joy.

Or maybe I've been locked up in my house too long.

Anyway, one thing that dials up the happiness factor to 11 for me is the perfect coaster. If you have water rings staining all your wooden tabletops, you're probably not familiar with them. That or you're single.

Coasters protect the furniture. You put them under your drink, and they prevent moisture from leaving an imprint on the wood.

Even before face masks and hand sanitizer, coasters had already become a household fashion accessory. You could get them with scenic pictures. Reproduced works of art. Rock stars. You could order them customized with logos, sayings, quotes and in any size, shape, color or material you wanted.

Over the years, and by no means intentionally, I've collected my share of coasters, mostly from people who didn't want to spend more on a real gift. I have more sets of 6 coasters than I'll ever have glasses to put on them. The funny thing is, like my children, I definitely have a favorite.

Also like my children, it probably isn't the one you expected.

As you take a gander at a sampling of my collection above, I can read your mind. It's not hard. First, you're thinking doesn't he have anything better to post about. And the answer is if I did, would you be reading this?

Second, because of who I am and what you know about me from following this blog so long—and if I haven't said thank you lately, thank you—I'm guessing you're guessing my favorite coaster would be the square-with-round-corners one with the picture of Bruce Springsteen circa the Born In The USA album.

I didn't want you to hear it this way, but you're wrong. Actually, it's this one.

This cork coaster was given to me by my friend Johnny when we worked together and shared an office at an agency in Huntington Beach. It was a creative shop—you could tell because they named the conference rooms after different beaches. I don't know how Goodby sleeps at night knowing there's that kind of creative horsepower competing against them.

I may have digressed.

The beauty of this coaster is it's not beautiful. It's quintessentially exactly what a coaster should be. Form following function, with the lip around the edge preventing any excess moisture from spilling over. And because of the material, it doesn't slide around on a slick desktop, which means no accidental spills (unless I'm really trying).

When I, along with ten other people, were laid off from the agency at the beach with the conference room names they must've given at least thirty seconds of thought to, the first thing I packed up wasn't the ads I'd done, my laptop or my coffee mug. Literally the first thing was this coaster. Sure there was that whole form follows function thing, but I think it also reminds me of the great times I had working with Johnny as well as my other two office roommates, Nicole and my art director partner Imke.

At any rate, it's a little thing I suppose wouldn't mean much to most people. But it brings me great joy every time I use it.

I can only imagine how happy I'd be if Johnny would finally pony up for the other five.