Budget Blues

My favourite pastimes are going out for coffee and shopping.  I love to trot out to the store, the inexpensive fruit and veggie store and grab a couple oranges or a few grapes and whatever looks appealing for my dinner.  Or my lunch. Or a snack. There’s no better break for someone like me who’s been trying all day to have a brilliant idea than a walk and a coffee.  Is it bad that they know me at Tim Hortons?

Apparently yes.  My daily happy money has been cut to $5. That represents a drastic reduction from the previous allowable of ……. Unlimited. 

After not quite a week, I can honestly say.  Nothing. I don’t want to swear on the Internet.  However, this is about as hard as giving up crack cocaine or chocolate.  All that time and no happy spending to fill it.  I have tried reading a book, doing cleaning, folding my laundry, napping and lots of surfing stupid stuff online.  Blah!  The person who is acting as a self-appointed financial advisor has suggested going to the gym.

Tonight, I did that.  So. In order not to be able to wander into Tims or Fresh Fruit Heaven, I left my wallet and lovely green debit card at home. But it was raining.  Should I get wet or stay dry at home?  Ok, different coat on and I’m on my way. Halfway thru the soggy, muddy, park I realize in order to do my physio exercises, I need my theraband.  Back home, getting drippier and exponentially crabbier by the second.  Out again, after giving myself a stern talking to about not giving up, I dash across Mount Pleasant and slide to the door. Legs freezingly wet, I arrive at GoodLife and squeeze my way amongst the sweaty bunch taking up the mat area. 

Did my physio sets. Three times three things, right next to huge guy who could crush me with an inadvertent thigh stretch.  I am brave.  Question is did it work? Or should I say, did it work out?

Did I hate it and really want to shop and sip?   Are all those tales of about endorphins kicking in just urban legends? Was I even more cranky, if marginally fitter? Or did I end up feeling all virtuous and cheerful, pleased to accomplish my somewhat neglected anti-knee-injury plips and plops?  This is embarrassing.  What can I say?  It may have been…… good.  I dried off fast and did all the sets and shared a few smiles and hellos a bit of chit chat. I’m not sure I’m ready to admit it, but I feel, um, ok.  I’m just going to keep this to myself for now, Myself and you.

 

The Grief Project

The Grief Project Interior Design Show Therapy Who buys a sofa for $8000? That’s the type of question that never worried Gerry and I. We made our yearly trip to the Interior Design Show and mentally splurged on all the goodies, sometimes getting to sit on lovely luxe pieces or at least touch them. It was annoying when we would get gently chastised for eating our lunch on a luxury lounger, but never mind. So this year, without my own personal design/good taste guru would I enjoy the Interior Design Show? Would it be therapeutic to wander through design porn or a(nother) way to open up the sadness floodgates? Good grief. What if I cried? I took along my good friend Grace, temporarily appointed as my photographer and discovered to my delight that I was able to assume the mantle of poseur and resident snob. As Grace and I visited the exhibits, I gave it all my best, loftily declaring items to be au courant, or, too too tacky. Grace may have seen through my pompous pronouncements (she has been to my place) but she let me pontificate and was a willing and cheerful participant in my Grief Project. We happily threaded our way through the show: I took notes and she took pictures and I gave out my most profound opinions. Note: The Interior Design Show is an A-1 Showcase The Interior Design Show is special. There are pieces by budding designers of furniture and some very high end exhibitors as well as those that want to show off their latest, most trend setting wares. It’s perfect for a snob like me and we had a marvelous time. Grace did not offer to buy me an Italian Espresso maker as Gerry once did, but she wasn’t in a wheelchair either. Verdict? If you’re grief stricken, it’s good to try the things you’ve liked forever. Rather than focusing on what’s missing, appreciate the positive differences. I did not even think of crying.