Why I don’t stress
As we prepare to move into a very sweet little house together, I’m finding that GTB and I have different approaches to tackling big jobs. It seems that he likes to stress early to avoid inevitable hassles later, and I am hoping that not stressing at all will decrease the likelihood of those hassles. I have faith that it will all work itself out whether or not I fret about it now. I have this faith because I am regularly reminded of how life’s details sort themselves out without my interferring.
For instance, I walked to the kitchen a few minutes ago to buy a Pop Tart out of the vending machine. I usually avoid buying anything from the vending machine. Mostly because there isn’t anything even remotely healthy in there, but also because the kitchen is a million miles away from my office, and I wear uncomfortable shoes to work pretty often. But this morning, I had a hankerin’ for processed fruit spread and I was out of the oatmeal I keep in my office to counter those disgusting cravings.
So I walked to the kitchen with 75 cents in hand, already salivating at the thought of the frosting. I found the Pop Tarts’ code (G4), noticed that, hot damn, they were only 50 cents, and put my quarters in the slot. After I punched in the code, I heard the thrilling sound of the spiral holder thingies turning. To my horror, I looked down and noticed that they weren’t turning on my Pop Tart. They were turning on the empty slot below my Pop Tart. I’d looked at the wrong code. The agony! I’d just wasted 50 cents.
I walked the long trek back to my office for more money and then back down to the kitchen. When I looked for the correct code for Pop Tarts, I realized they actually cost 85 cents. Fuck! I’d only brought 50! (Because yes, sometimes I really am that stupid.)
I stood there, paralyzed by indecision about what to do. Should I walk back down to my office again for more money? My feet were already starting to hurt. Should I just ask my office mate if I can eat one of her packs of oatmeal, which would still require a trip to my office and back to the kitchen for hot water? Have I mentioned that my feet were already starting to hurt?
In mid-thought, one of the lovely ladies who is fortunate to have an office that is close to the kitchen came in for some coffee. She politely asked how I was and I responded, “Actually, I’m annoyed.” I explained the story to her in excruciating detail. After she listened to me and filled up her coffee cup, she walked me to her office, only a few short feet away, and handed me a granola bar from her desk drawer.
She’s going straight to heaven.
And I have further proof that I don’t need to stress about the big move, and the big truck it will take to make the move, and whether or not we’ll be able to afford the kind of fancy shower curtain I’ve become accustomed to, and all the rest of it. If I sit still long enough, someone will come bearing shower curtains. I’m sure of it.
March 21st, 2006 at 2:38 pm
You know, at one point I’m sure the Donner Party also thought that someone would eventually come along and give them a hamburger, or some soup, or some sort of chuck wagon meal. Look what they ended up eating though.