It's been two months now since I got fired and received my last pay cheque.
On the one hand - or maybe just on the very tip of my pinky, I miss having an income. But on the rest of my whole body, I love not having to go somewhere I don't want to be each day.
There's another blog post to be written on another day about my future and the idealistic dream of doing what I love and not selling out for a paycheque, but in the meantime, I find myself with no income, and lots of time.
No income has turned me into a cheap-skate. I was at Michael's today, and stood in the yarn aisle debating purchasing the yarn for a project that's been on the wish list for a while. The yarn would come to about $50, but I wouldn't get to the project for at least a couple of weeks. So I left it and walked away with $50 still in my bank account.
The days of frivolous spending on things like pedicures and waxing are gone. Massages? Not even on the radar. I even buy groceries differently. It's more of a only-buy-what-we'll-eat-this-week method instead of the usual oh-that-looks-good-I-should-get-it method. This means we run out of vegetables each week, instead of composting at least a few limp, over ripe vegetables each week to make room for new stock. There's a wonderful satisfaction in using things up and not having any wastage. It turns out, running out of bread or milk or cheese is not nearly as catastrophic as one might think.
If we do need something that badly, I can always go to the store. Having the time to walk to the store is a luxury in itself, and having to haul the purchases back up the hill, guarantees that I just buy what I went for. Good-bye impulse purchases. Same goes for the drug store: no more buying shampoo just because its on sale. I'm working through the stash of toiletries I apparently felt the need to accumulate.
There are things I won't scrimp on. I still pay 50c more for a dozen eggs to buy free-range eggs and not contribute to chickens being stuffed into cages. I can live with that splurge and every time I see the colour of the yolk, I know its worth it. I will, occasionally, still buy an overpriced coffee. The delight of a $5 latte is tough to beat - but now its a monthly treat as opposed to an everyday occurrence taken for granted. Did I really do that everyday?
Besides the expensive morning coffee that I'm saving on, I also don't need bus tickets and whatever else you buy since you're in the drugstore anyway.
The extra time on my hands means I have time to go to the library and I'm reading more. I have time to bake and I cook more leisurely. Beans and lentils are now soaked and boiled instead of added from a can. Dinner no longer has to be the quickest option because I'm too tired and have no time to do anything more creative. These luxuries are the best part of not having to go to work.
Well that, and no commute.
I don't know what my future holds, but this is a good exercise in finding the things that I need to hold on to as that future unfolds.
On the one hand - or maybe just on the very tip of my pinky, I miss having an income. But on the rest of my whole body, I love not having to go somewhere I don't want to be each day.
There's another blog post to be written on another day about my future and the idealistic dream of doing what I love and not selling out for a paycheque, but in the meantime, I find myself with no income, and lots of time.
No income has turned me into a cheap-skate. I was at Michael's today, and stood in the yarn aisle debating purchasing the yarn for a project that's been on the wish list for a while. The yarn would come to about $50, but I wouldn't get to the project for at least a couple of weeks. So I left it and walked away with $50 still in my bank account.
The days of frivolous spending on things like pedicures and waxing are gone. Massages? Not even on the radar. I even buy groceries differently. It's more of a only-buy-what-we'll-eat-this-week method instead of the usual oh-that-looks-good-I-should-get-it method. This means we run out of vegetables each week, instead of composting at least a few limp, over ripe vegetables each week to make room for new stock. There's a wonderful satisfaction in using things up and not having any wastage. It turns out, running out of bread or milk or cheese is not nearly as catastrophic as one might think.
If we do need something that badly, I can always go to the store. Having the time to walk to the store is a luxury in itself, and having to haul the purchases back up the hill, guarantees that I just buy what I went for. Good-bye impulse purchases. Same goes for the drug store: no more buying shampoo just because its on sale. I'm working through the stash of toiletries I apparently felt the need to accumulate.
There are things I won't scrimp on. I still pay 50c more for a dozen eggs to buy free-range eggs and not contribute to chickens being stuffed into cages. I can live with that splurge and every time I see the colour of the yolk, I know its worth it. I will, occasionally, still buy an overpriced coffee. The delight of a $5 latte is tough to beat - but now its a monthly treat as opposed to an everyday occurrence taken for granted. Did I really do that everyday?
Besides the expensive morning coffee that I'm saving on, I also don't need bus tickets and whatever else you buy since you're in the drugstore anyway.
The extra time on my hands means I have time to go to the library and I'm reading more. I have time to bake and I cook more leisurely. Beans and lentils are now soaked and boiled instead of added from a can. Dinner no longer has to be the quickest option because I'm too tired and have no time to do anything more creative. These luxuries are the best part of not having to go to work.
Well that, and no commute.
I don't know what my future holds, but this is a good exercise in finding the things that I need to hold on to as that future unfolds.
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