End of an era

In 1999, I worked in a little office at Sansome and Lombard. There were only a few other businesses in the building, and I never saw anyone in the halls who wasn't a colleague.

Except for one sunny day in late summer, when I came back from lunch to find an impromptu sidewalk sale. The guy behind the blanket said he was hocking things for an artist who was moving her studio somewhere else. My miniature salary didn't lend itself to impulse buys, but there was a nice green mug on the blanket, so I paid $5 for it and went back to my desk.

It's been my office mug for eight years, and today I'm officially retiring it. Green mug, loyal friend, you've traveled with me to four jobs in as many cities, and you're as sturdy as they come. But even the soapiest scouring can't clean you now. It's time.

Also it turns out you were really from Pier 1, and not lovingly crafted by a dotcom artisan—but I didn't find out until a year ago, so we can pretend it didn't happen. Rest well. All is forgiven.

we hardly knew ye . . .