The High Cost of Comfort

Well, I did it. I invested in my feet today. The high cost of sandals that will support my feet and orthotics tallied a hefty sum of just under $250.00. 

Wow! For a girl who shops for the best bargains on milk, that is a big investment. On the flip side, a few years of savings on my milk deals may have covered the cost. 

I bought a pair of sandals at the same store 11 years ago (I know because the clerk looked it up for me). I checked my financial records and I believe this pair of sandals cost $187.00. Eleven years of usage amortizes the cost to $17.00/year. Not a bad investment all in all.

My only dilemma was that I wished I could buy two different colors but at that cost, one pair was suffice. 

I came home and immediately tallied up my work expenses I have paid for out of pocket. It turns out I spend money without blinking when it comes to keeping the office up and running. This years office expenses exceed the cost of my comfy shoes and I was reimbursed my costs without question.

I can find a million ways to justify my spending. Savings here, cutbacks there, calculating how much something costs over its lifetime, a little nest egg stashed aside for a rainy day all keep my budget balanced.

Side story with a moral and relevant to "all of the above":

When I was young, in love and about to marry, I asked my husband-to-be why he loved me. I knew the answer was going to be an honest one when he took a minute to respond. After some consideration, he replied, "Because you are good with money".

Fast forward to the trying times during our marriage when money and lack of it was at the root of many of our disagreements. My husband would be asking for money we didn't have to spend on items that were never included in any budgeting figures. I would respond with an attitude that probably went far beyond a simple "no" and his retort would be "Just juggle the books ". 

Back to the reason this memory resurfaced:

I have been juggling my finances for as far as I can remember. In fact, it was one of the reasons my husband cited for loving me. Savings, cutbacks and a little nest egg here and there go a long way over time. 

Long story short? The high cost of comfort is well worth the sacrifices made along the way.

True to my form, the new is almost identical to the old. 

Same, same, same.

If I know what I like, why would I want to try anything else?

Craving Comfort

I am craving comfort these days. Comfortable clothes, comfortable shoes, comfortable temperatures, comfortable pillows ... just plain comfort.

I wore a pair of sandals as I walked from the house to the car; from the car to my destination; back to my car; then home. I wish I had a step counter to count how very few steps I took in my rather ugly and very old orthotic sandals. Not many. As soon as I settled in for the night I wondered why my feet felt "off". The sandals. It had to be the sandals.

My feet have been the least of my worries lately. Ill fitting clothes have me searching online for comfy tops and bottoms that don't pull, bind or restrict. Long story short, I've had no luck. And I honestly don't feel like spending the very little expendable cash I do have left over at the end of my pay cheque on restocking my wardrobe. 

To top things off, I'm in the middle stage of a hair style I'm not comfortable wearing. "It will grow" are the words I've been uttering since I encouraged my hair stylist to go a little shorter. What was I thinking? I have no idea, except it most likely had a lot to do with not wanting to get my hair cut again any time soon. Mission accomplished. 

It is truly no wonder why I have zero to no inclination to leave the house. I am not out to impress anyone but I simply want to feel comfortable in my own skin (yes, that feels a little tight as well). 

I know I must be more conscious about what I eat. This ill-at-ease feeling centers in my stomach and what I've been feeding it. The comfort I get from nibbling on those crisp, salty, greasy little nuggets of former potatoes feel like a nice, warm hug at the end of my day.

I don't crave chips on the weekend. It is my work week that has me running for consolation at the end of my days. It has nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with comfort.

Something has to change and I think that something is me. Finding comfort in my days without finding that comfort in food is food for thought.

Easing Into May

Never have I been happier to flip over into a clean and empty calendar page than I have been lately. Calendar notations, appointments, Revenue Canada deadlines, what-to-do, what-has-been-done ... all of it. I simply love an empty canvas to recreate the feeling of beginning again.

May. Just the sound of it "may" ... it has the feel of a polite month. May I please ask you this one favor. May we fill some dates with fun activities? Maybe we can work in some outside spring clean-up. May flowers. Mother, may I?

I worked in the first round of yard clean up after returning home from my second job (on Monday, May 1st - great start to a new month, right?). Thanks to the extended daylight hours and fine weather, this arrangement set me up for success. I had an hour at my disposal and I made a game of it. I wonder how much I can do in an hour ...

Fueled by adrenaline, I pushed the deadline and came inside in need of a shower. Ahhh! A productive evening. A shower to mark the end of the day. 

I was so pumped that I didn't even need to eat to stay awake. It was a marvelous feeling. Unfortunately I ate anyway. The habit is engrained deeply into my being. That is on me.

"I should do this every night!" was my immediate thought. If I don't do something productive, I could go for a walk. I was already feeling my resolve faltering before I left for my second job yesterday afternoon, so I started vacuuming and left the vacuum cleaner in a place where I would literally trip over it before I sat down in front of the TV and lost myself to old habits.

I vacuumed the small bit of vacuuming that was left and immediately climbed into my pj's and resumed my position in front of the TV. Once again, I didn't need to eat to stay awake so I enjoyed the sensation for as long as it lasted until I craved the sensation of the crunch and saltiness of a good bag of chips.

Houston, I think we have a problem. And the problem is me.

May I please be excused? 

Know Thy Enemy

One day to go and April will be behind us. I am unimpressed with the way I count down the days I have at my disposal as "days to be endured". 

I would like to point my finger at Revenue Canada and be angry with them for all the deadlines they impose on me, but I know the due dates a year in advance so my self imposed procrastination is all on me. I now have a full year to work on managing myself in a manner where I will be prepared and deal with the deadlines more effectively. 

Procrastination is my enemy. "Know thy enemy", it has been said. Okay. Enemy is identified. I truly believe I am my own worst enemy. I get in the way of myself nearly 100% of the time.

After spending a good part of the morning rereading some of my writing from seven years ago, it is the same story. Over and over and over ("over" times seven, to be exact) again.

I fall into the same pattern year after year, time after time. I recognized my mind numbing activities seven years ago. 

I am almost certain the sit-in-front-of-the-TV-and-numb habit began the fall of 2011. A fatal combination of events - it was my oldest son's cast off TV ending up in our living room and a new job I had started outside our home that was my undoing. I have vivid memories of parking myself on the couch and not moving for the majority of my off-work hours.

Prior to that, I recognize the cycle of "low grade depression" at the end of winter many years prior. How did I deal with these thoughts before I started numbing them? Writing, cleaning, culling and doing something physical were some of my coping habits. Before the Internet moved into my little weekend oasis, I reverted back to my old ways. "Doing" instead of "numbing" was balm for my soul.

Perhaps my biggest enemy is the Internet and the constant connectivity to the world. Always checking, forever jumping to my phone when I hear an incoming text, the ability to stream movies, TV and almost anything you want to watch online. My psychological connection of TV to mindless eating, compounded by my inability to stay awake unless I'm eating has snowballed to where I am today (with a pair of jeans one MORE size bigger sitting in my Amazon cart).

Before I hit the "Proceed to Checkout" button, maybe I should try a few of my old tactics to see if I can get a few more years out of the size I'm presently wearing. Changing my clothing size is less about vanity and more about finding my inner contentment (again). 

There is a new month on the horizon and I'm eager to step into a fresh new calendar page without a zillion (okay, only a hundred) deadlines biting at my ankles. Maybe I can divert this energy into something better.

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.” ~ Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Some Things Never Change

On Feb 8, 2016 I wrote this: 

I remember the years I was living my dreams. People talked of "bucket lists", I scoffed and said, "I'm keeping my bucket list empty!"

They were adventurous years (for me). I tried new things (Zumba and Belly Fit), I was determined to become a Zumba instructor (and only missed the mark by one, final practicum assignment), I participated in a dance competition, I went on a cruise, I invited people into my world and it was a most incredible ride.

Yes, I kept my "bucket list" empty. Looking back on those glory years, seeing where I am now and looking ahead I have kept my promise to myself. My bucket list remains empty. It is a good thing and a bad thing all at the same time.

It is a sad and lonely place when you stop dreaming. Instead, I have filled up our home's bucket list. It contains dreams such as: new doors, new floors, new baseboards and door casings and a new paint job (inside and out). There is a very expensive domino effect that happens once you start home renovations, thus my paralysis in this regard for so many years.

I have no desire to travel, nor do I  have one pang of envy for those who are setting off and/or enjoying their winter vacation destinations. I am exactly where I want to be. I am at home, living my dream in my quiet and understated way. I've done all I want to do for now. It is time to centre myself and take care of my finances and our home.

Seven years later ...

My bucket list remains empty and I'm happy to announce our home's bucket list as of February, 2016 has been emptied as well.

The house's bucket list has been filled up (times 2, with the addition of a second place to call home) but my personal list of hopes and dreams remains static. I found myself saying these words just a short while ago and was rather pleased to find proof this has been my feeling prior to so very many life changing events over the past seven years. I've said it before and I'll say it again:

I'm glad I did what I did, when I did it. The time was right. It was a carefree and fun-filled time. I was the person I needed to be, to get the most enjoyment out of all of my little adventures. I have changed. The world around me has changed. I want and need to be close to home.

No Regrets

My fingers fumbled over the keyboard yesterday morning and the next thing I knew, I had accidentally opened an archive of blogs I once wrote at Life As I Know It - MyKawartha.com.

I let myself wander through some of my writing. I write everything and anything here but I only allowed what I considered my "better writing" to be published when I wrote for a handful of publications. So I spent a little time reading my thoughts from yesteryear.

The post that stayed with me long after I read it, was something I wrote after Mother's Day, 2016. I had decided to surprise Mom with a visit in lieu of a Mother's Day phone call. I recognized the truth in the words, "I have gone out to surprise Mom for Mother's Day two years in a row now. I think my reasoning behind the surprise factor, is my dire need to have an "out" if I can't follow through on my plan. I was so close to cancelling. SO close."

It was a weekend that could have just as easily not happened. 

All was well in May, 2016. A year later, much had changed and I don't think I was alone with the feeling it would be our last Mother's Day with Mom. 

Prior to Mother's Day 2017, Mom dictated a message and asked me to text it to my siblings. No voting upon the where, when and how. No fuss, no muss. Just a simple invitation with easy to follow instructions:

We all met up and shared a Mother's Day brunch together. It was a chilly day so we didn't head off to a nearby park as we had done in years past. Mother's Day was a day that meant a lot to Mom and I am so grateful we were all with her. No surprises. She was fully in control. It was a good day.

There have been so many good memories, made without thought of "this could be the last". There were stand out moments all along the way. Moments of laughter, joy, celebration of togetherness and the simple gift of appreciation of what we have. 

It was a gift to find words I had written when all was right in the world and there was no foreshadowing of what was to come. 

May, 2016 I wrote:

I have the feeling Mom would have been just as happy with a quick "Mother's Day phone call" and perhaps a card in the mail. But I didn't plan that far in advance. Maybe next year ...

And that is the gift of the weekend past. The gift of thinking, "I will try this differently next year, knowing I did my best this year". Tomorrow is not promised. Today is a gift. Living life in the present tense is the only true way to live a life.

Looking back at the weekend past, I know I will never regret it. That is the way I need to live my life. Living my life nestled up in the serenity and security of our home is also a gift. But it is best appreciated when I leave the nest from time to time.

There's no place like home! There is NO place like home!! But there is also no place like "going back home". I'm so glad I went.

Sleeping In Day 2

Unwilling to have a replay of events from yesterday, I immediately made my side of the bed this morning.

Jet is sleeping in. His job is to finish de-hairing the bed before he makes his half.

He is a terrible roommate. He never picks up after himself.