Saturday, June 21, 2008


I'm of the belief that there is no leaving the house without spending money. It might be why I spend so much time at home. Even going to work costs me money, and I am not talking about gas prices. Think about it - if you feel like getting out and about, the odds are good there will be money spent. Dinner with friends, the movies, shopping, swinging by Target. Sure I could go up to Washington Park and walk around the Rose Gardens, and that wouldn't cost me anything, but knowing me I would probably want a green tea Frappucino (no whip) on the way home. Even a trip to the grave means stopping at Langdown for a couple of flowers. The errands I am running this morning means I have to spend money, but that's understandable since it's groceries and stuff.

So, for me, it's get out of the house and do something not work-related to stimulate other senses, or stay home and not spend any money, and then feel like my weekend was wasted. A trade off I can live with when I am feeling broke, because, you know, I get over it.

Now that I am moving into a private condo instead of a huge monstrosity of an apartment complex, the deposits are more, and I have to actually watch my money. I don't like that so much, because I am impulsive and like to buy stuff. I think maybe though this is the right age to start living with a budget in mind. Not easy for me, but I can adapt. In the long run, it's worth it.

Same can be said for anything, really. Where you choose to live, since a lot of my readers have chosen to hang their hats in places much different than where they were raised, is a personal choice and it doesn't matter for how little or long you choose to stay. Whenever someone asks me about my time in Cancun, I get a "Why did you leave?" -type of question, always. The first time it was planned, so that's an easy answer; the second time, not so easy. But I am always left feeling like the person who asked the question is somehow smugly happy that I no longer live there, that perhaps I failed in some way, and now I have to be here, like them, living a mundane existance. Maybe I'm just too sensitive. Or cynical.

For those of us that went and came back, big kudos, because we stepped out of the box for however long, did something most people only dream of doing, and lived to tell the tale. To those who stay, and make their lives there, the same. Because happiness comes from within and it doesn't matter where you live. I'm happy for anyone who has found their happiness.

And for those people that seem to find some kind of pleasure that a person has decided it is time to pack their things and move on to pursue their happiness, I hope someday they find their own. It's no fun to go around looking for the discomfort of others to make their own lives seem somehow better. Everything we do that is different is hard at first, but the rewards are great and worth it.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home