I have always thought there is a wide chasm between being cheap and being frugal. I grew up in a family of four on a teacher's salary. I was never keenly aware that we were poor. We lived in rural areas and had no exposure to shopping malls. Of course this was long before the internet was anything that kids were using. In those days being frugal and being cheap were nestled together, since life had fewer options. I'm grateful for being raised that way, and more grateful that I've been able to shed the cheapness and keep the frugality. I find distinct differences now between the two. For example:
- Cheap leaves a 10% tip for a great meal.
- Frugal leaves at least 20% and doesn't eat out as often.
- Cheap buys a new $20 shirt on sale for $10.
- Frugal buys a used $50 shirt for $10.
- Cheap cuts corners.
- Frugal rounds them.
There are so many reasons to be frugal and so many not to be cheap that this post has to be Part 1 of 1+x (math reference, see below). I'll never get to it all in a single post. Instead, I want to tell you about one of my favorite, repeatable frugal experiences.
I was in a thrift store doing holiday shopping (believe it or not, NEW gifts are frowned upon in my family – they simply do not support the production of new goods, a topic for another post). Because I regularly shop in thrift stores, I can attest to this happening at least once a month. I found THE PERFECT ITEM! It's always unexpected. You look down and THERE IT IS staring at you from a pile of … well, other people's trash.
This time it was a gift for my sister, the math whiz. She has a Master's Degree in Mathematics and she edits math textbooks for a living. Meanwhile, I can barely add and subtract. She tells me math jokes and I can do nothing but stare blankly at her while she's laughing her ass off. This is what she's getting for Christmas:
And can you believe this little gem is still in print? It cost me all of $1.99 but when it comes to having fun with my sister, it's priceless! Merry Christmas, sis!
I Should Be Drinking More
December 16th, 2009 Posted in Everything Else | No Comments Yet - Dont Be Shy! »
The last three weeks have been so frustrating I can hardly stand myself. A combination of really pissy things happened all in a row. One of my good friends was diagnosed with leukemia. Then I awkwardly tried to reconnect with another good friend. (Awkward on my part – I tried to be reserved about it and then unabashedly fell all over myself, from which I am still trying to recover). Then the asshats at my job started to get festive. Then I had lunch with my grandpa at his assisted-living center. All the while, I'm having these very surreal dreams that stick to my brain like duct tape during the day and I can hardly think of anything else. When I step back and try to figure out what is really going on with my precarious mental state, it seems like:
- I don't want to die.
- I don't even want to get really old.
- I don't want to work with asshats.
- I don't want to lose the few friends that I have.
What if the choices I've made are the ones that get me exactly what I don't want? Even though I would say I don't choose to die, I did choose to be a smoker for 20 years. On the other hand, that could be useful in terms of not getting really old.
Layering the dreams on top of this is really creepy because in the dream, I meet up with my (now awkwardly renewed) friend on a steep cliff and there are other people in my life milling around aimlessly, like they do in dreams. Then I experience something that has only happened to me once before, when I had to put my dog down a few years ago (I told you it was creepy). At the moment she died, I swear to you that I felt her soul pass through mine. It made me draw in a sharp breath and I thought I might have a heart attack right there and go with her. There's no good way to describe the feeling. It was intensely painful and intensely joyous at the same time. Well, in my dream the same thing happens when I meet up with my friend.
The first time I had the dream, I decided I should get back in touch – maybe there was something going on that I was supposed to help with. But things are going great with my friend and I'm still having that dream regularly. I try not to read too much into those things, but like I said, this one is really tough to shake off.
So I do what I am best at – pretending. I pretend everything is fine and I pretend to like my job and I pretend that I'm not terrified of getting old and I pretend to be the happy, successful woman that everyone likes. And when I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like my heart is going to jump right out of my throat, I pretend it doesn't mean anything.
Today is a Good Day
July 17th, 2009 Posted in Everything Else | No Comments Yet - Dont Be Shy! »
It’s been a rough 90 days, integrating back into the working world. At least one day a week, I have to really hunker down and fight off the urge to quit. Once you quit a high-paying job, like I did last year, it’s much easier to do it a second time. When I don’t find myself downright pissed off, I try to laugh at the Dilbertness of it all.
Yeah, that’s hard. It’s just not that funny when it’s your life.
The best part of the new job is that my boss went to a lot of effort to find me a place to sit where there is almost no foot traffic. I’ve realized that I am far more sensitive to everything than I want to be and having a quiet spot is truly priceless. I don’t have this weird need for "face time" like so many of my peers – maybe because I don’t buy in to the career path theory. I really want to be under the radar as much as possible. No recognition; no reward; just getting the job done.
There are good moments and I’ve made some new friends. But mostly I’m refilling my bank account and hoping I can stick with it long enough to feed myself for a while after I quit again. I told my husband I would try to stay for five years, but after the first five days I realized that probably wouldn’t happen.
The commute averages 70 minutes a day, round trip. It’s a lot of stop-and-go highway traffic. I don’t really mind it, but that kind of driving makes me nervous about having little fender-bender accidents. I listen to NPR and try not to give the bird to the countless people who cut me off and then honk at me for good measure. I’m not an aggressive driver, but that’s more due to the car I drive than my own personality. There is a reason I chose a four-cylinder engine – it’s for your safety as well as mine.
There is a bit about working that makes everything else surreal, particularly when you head upwards of 60 hours a week. At first I could do no more than eat and sleep and work. It was all-consuming. Now it’s just consuming. Some days I can eat, sleep, work and read. Today, I ate, slept, worked and wrote.
Today is a good day.
