A Hoard’s Humble Beginning (and Exponential Growth)
Greetings, mortals. You may know me from such legendary feats as ‘The Great Siege of Gilded Keep’ or ‘The Unfortunate Incident with the Duke’s Really Shiny Crown.’ Or perhaps you know me from my sheer, unadulterated wealth. My lair, you see, is less a cave and more a meticulously curated (read: terrifyingly vast) monument to accumulated riches. Centuries I’ve spent, meticulously selecting, acquiring, and occasionally torching individuals to expand my collection. Gold coins? I have them by the ton. Jewels? I sleep on them like common straw. Armor of fallen knights? Each dent tells a story, a triumphant roar etched into gleaming steel.
Lately, however, a curious notion has slithered into my otherwise occupied reptilian brain. A whisper from your peculiar modern world: decluttering. Specifically, this “Marie Kondo method” that seems to involve making inanimate objects… happy? Honestly, I’ve seen stranger things. I once witnessed a goblin trying to knit fog. But this Kondo woman… she claims possessions should ‘spark joy.’ Frankly, the very thought of my hoard not sparking joy is as preposterous as a knight without a dragon to fight. It’s like asking a phoenix if it enjoys being reborn in fire. Of course it does! I, therefore, shall embark on this… experiment. For science. And perhaps to finally locate my favorite, slightly dented, silver chalice from the Third Age of Man. It had a rather pleasing heft, you see.
The Categorical Calamity: A Dragon’s Inventory
Madame Kondo’s sage advice, as best as my millennia-old brain can process it, is to tackle one category at a time. Clothing, books, miscellaneous items… Ah, yes. My ‘miscellaneous items’ alone would dwarf your entire global economy. But let’s begin. She suggests starting with clothing. A simple enough concept, even for a creature with scales. My ‘clothing,’ however, tends to be the vanquished attire of my foes. Take this rather fetching suit of plate mail, for instance. Belonged to Sir Reginald the Valiant. It gleams, it’s surprisingly comfortable (after a bit of hammering), and it reminds me of that rather satisfying afternoon I spent redecorating his battlements. Does it spark joy? My dear human, it sparks triumph! It sparks memories of a well-executed dive-bomb! It sparks… well, it sparks a desire for a good polish.
Then there are the jewels. My bed, as I mentioned. A veritable ocean of shimmering baubles. Rubies like droplets of my own spilled blood (metaphorically speaking, of course). Emeralds greener than the envy of a thousand kings. Diamonds so brilliant they could blind a lesser dragon. Each one hand-selected, often acquired under duress. This sapphire? From the coronation of Emperor Tiberius. This emerald necklace? A rather handsome parting gift from the Elven Queen who misunderstood my intentions. Do they spark joy? They spark the avarice of nations! They spark the thrill of negotiation (often conducted with fire and claw). They spark… immense, soul-satisfying greed.
The ‘Sparking Joy’ Conundrum: A Dragon’s Dilemma
This is where the fundamental flaw in the Kondo method, as applied to a dragon, becomes apparent. Everything in my hoard sparks joy. Every single, glinting, clinking, potentially cursed artifact. Take this pile of gold coins. Not just any gold, mind you. These are the doubloons plundered from the Spanish Armada. These are the sovereign coins minted by the last of the dwarf kings. Each one is a miniature testament to human folly and my own superior acquisitive skills. Holding them makes me feel… powerful. It makes me feel… like a dragon. Does that not qualify as joy?
Perhaps it’s the type of joy. Kondo’s joy seems to be a gentle, perhaps slightly sentimental, fluttering. My joy is more… seismic. It’s the roar of a satisfied volcano. It’s the thunderous crash of a falling empire. I pick up this intricately carved ivory tusk. It’s from a creature long extinct, a magnificent beast that I, alas, had to… persuade… to join my collection. It’s exquisite craftsmanship. It’s a piece of lost history. It makes me feel a profound connection to the vast, often brutal, tapestry of existence. If that doesn’t spark joy, then what does? Perhaps the concept is simply too small for a creature of my… scale?
The Taming of the Tangle: A Compromise, Perhaps?
So, the Kondo method, in its purest, most saccharine form, seems ill-suited for a hoard of my magnitude and historical significance. But perhaps I can adapt it. Instead of asking ‘Does this spark joy?’, I shall ask: ‘Does this bring me closer to my ultimate dragon self?’
Consider this pile of discarded knightly helmets. Many are duplicates, really. Functional, yes. Historically relevant, some of them. But do I need twenty identical representations of a man in a metal hat who ultimately met a rather predictable end? Probably not. Perhaps, then, I can bid farewell to the lesser helmets. Not because they don’t spark joy, oh no. They spark the joy of ‘another one bites the dust.’ But they don’t spark the peak joy, the joy of a perfectly curated collection. They are… superfluous sparks.
And so, I shall embark on a journey. Not of discarding, but of appreciating. Of understanding. Of optimizing. My hoard shall remain, a testament to a life well-lived (and well-looted). But perhaps, just perhaps, it will be a tidier testament. I will hold each item, feel its weight, recall its acquisition, and then, with a sigh that might just shake the mountains, place it back… but perhaps a little more neatly. I might even try folding some of these more pliable treasures. Like these chains. They do make a rather satisfying clinking sound when arranged vertically. Who knew?
A Dragon’s Final (Sparkling) Thought
The Marie Kondo method, explained through the lens of a millennia-old, treasure-hoarding dragon, is less about shedding possessions and more about recognizing the sheer, unadulterated, and frankly, overwhelming joy that comes from owning everything. It’s a testament to a life of excellent decision-making, unwavering conviction, and the occasional strategically deployed inferno. So, go forth, gather your treasures, and if they spark joy… well, by all means, keep them. And if you happen to find a small, slightly singed, but remarkably well-preserved collection of medieval gold coins missing from your hoard… well, let’s just say we have a lot in common.