The Extent of My Practicality

Because of the current economy, I've been told precisely fifteen times in the last month to "buy only what is necessary." This would be pretty straightforward for most people, but I have something wrong with my brain. I may even have a mental illness.

Case in point: the first full year I had a job. I was only 19, single, and still living with my parents. But that doesn't excuse how I spent my $1000 Christmas bonus. Actually, I can't tell you how I spent all of it. But I remember buying my brother a Jackalope. I bought my oldest brother something equally useless and expensive, and snowshoes for my dad. (The snowshoes are mine now, just to stir up some jealousy among those in my family who read me.)

Not practical. At all.

On my lunch hour, I went to Dollar General to buy laundry soap. While there, I was forced to decide whether some disposable window cleaners were "necessary" or not. I really need to clean the inside of the windshield in the truck, so, practical = check. Having paper towels and Windex at home already = not necessary. So I didn't buy this $2 freaking item. I was kind of proud of myself. Then I went to McDonald's, which I hate, and spent only $3 for lunch. Very conflicting, since I know how unhealthy that kind of food makes me. But spending only $3 meant I could drive over to the bookstore and browse -- and maybe even buy a book since I saved so much money on lunch and not buying window cleaner.

You may be wondering, Dear Reader, if I was able to escape the clutches of Barnes and Noble unscathed. Of course not. As soon as I hit the entryway, a book caught my eye. The Knitting Directory. Have I ever mentioned that I don't know how to knit? That's why I needed the book. Have I mentioned that I don't have knitting needles? Have I mentioned that I don't have yarn? These are minor hurdles along my path to learning how to knit. I prefer to think of these stumbling blocks as opportunities - because now that I have a book about how to knit, it becomes necessary for me to have knitting needles and yarn.

Do you see how it works?

And how could I pass up a piece of literature like the one titled When the Duke Returns? Of course I want the Duke to return. Maybe he's coming back from Waterloo, having single-handedly defeated Napoleon. Maybe he went to America to escape a huge gambling debt, leaving a younger brother to clean up the mess he made of his entire Estate. It was simply necessary for me to know why the Duke is returning, and what will happen to him when he gets here. There.

But I promise I won't spend any more money. Today.

Vacation Day!

Son #3 has a dental appointment shortly after noon, so I'm taking this opportunity to use one of my 13 vacation days left before June 1st. (I'm saving the rest for when my soldier is home on mid-tour leave in May.) It's windy out there, but warmer (about 53 degrees F, moving up to 64 in the afternoon), with a chance for thunderstorms and tornadoes tonight! In case I haven't mentioned it, I embrace bad weather, but only if it's warm.

I'm biorhythmically moving into one of my introspective periods, which means fewer posts and comments. At least I understand my own patterns and can predict them, even if I haven't yet managed to figure out prevention. I may be on to something, though: a co-worker invited me yesterday to walk the six flights of stairs that flank the interior of the hangar and lead to a catwalk at the ceiling. If I lead up to doing this every day, five days a week, I'll be well on my way to restructuring my bird legs, having thighs and calves, and maybe preventing a fluctuation in mood. And if I end up looking like the lower half of Beyonce, who am I to complain?

One of the things I've been thinking about lately is how painful self-restraint is for me. And not just self-restraint, but being forced by other people or by circumstances to refrain from doing something - especially spending money. It's bad enough that I live with a tightwad at home, but now I'm faced with a tightwad employer. Since I started my current job, I've been in charge of ordering office supplies for my department. Because of the current economy, the only thing I can order is paper, and even that has to go through the approval of four managers. This means no Post-It notes! No pens! No multi-colored miniature legal notepads! Do you know how much that hurts me? It's a good thing I have my purple, refillable Dr. Grip gel pen, with the dozen-or-so black ink refills I ordered a while back just in case. I may have stumbled upon an entrepeneurial opportunity, though. While I still have staples, I'm going to take discarded printer paper, cut it into quarters, and staple it (blank side up) into small note pads and sell them to my co-workers.
(Note: While I understand that if you "take care of the pennies, the dollars will take care of themselves," it seems a bit laughable when you consider that the top five executives of my company are pulling in a total of 44 million dollars. I say slice from the top of the cake first. I'll bet the top of the cake has Post-It notes!)

So that's it. I'm spoiled rotten, and never would have survived The Great Depression. Especially since Post-It Notes weren't invented yet.