About sixteen years ago, I met him for the first time. My trainwreck sibling brought home this adorable puppy he had no business adopting because he had not one thing in his life that wasn’t a mess. I was furious at my sibling – he didn’t even take care of himself, how could he drag
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January 21, 2013
Funny About Money’s ruminations on the one-day, one-housekeeping task approach reinforces the idea that simple /= always easy. For a little over a year now, I’ve been doing a similar thing with our housework despite my preference to do big-clean-days which are both time and energy monsters.
More sensible, it seemed, to take it in turn: do the routine things that will drive me batty if not done regularly, and insert one other chore. It’s like a special housekeeping menu.
Routine: dishes every day, trash and recycling when it’s more than half full, picking up the kitchen after cooking.
Insert one: Brush the dog, human laundry (full wash, dry, fold and store), dog laundry, vacuuming. Full counter wipedown (instead of the clean as you go). Clear out the fridge or freezer. Clear the dining table of the inevitable pile of things. Pick up the bedroom and living room.
It doesn’t seem like much but there are plenty of days where I’ve worked 13 hours, cooked dinner and cleared up afterward only to curl up in the corner, refusing to do any more. And any time I tackle more than one optional chore, I find myself sucked into a snowball of more related chores. Well heck, that happens anyway.
- Clearing the table leads to needing to file and/or shred paperwork. Which leads to filling up the recycling that needs to be taken out. Which also means I’d need to pick up all other recycling because why not take out everything?
- On the other hand, properly starting a chore like laundry means all the clothing, or towels or toys shed randomly in various places gets picked up so it goes both ways.
- Vacuuming, oh vacuuming. As we get more things, we have more things the dog can shed on. So the decision: do a half-arsed job or go whole hog? Whole hog means pulling out everything he might have shed on, vacuuming and wiping them down, vacuuming behind, under, and over everything. Three guesses how often whole-hog turns into half-arsed? 🙂 There are times I’ve considered vacuuming him. Like when my pants are so furry from crawling about and hugging Doggle that I take a few passes at them.
The interesting thing is, while I’m in favor of exchanging money for time, and just as importantly, money for energy, within reason, it seems more obvious to the outside observer than to me that hiring a cleaner would be as a good an investment in protecting my health and sparing PiC’s energy as any other thing we’d try. Priorities, right? After all, do I need to be the one vacuuming or could a good cleaning service do it just as well?
Obviously, a good cleaner could do just as well.
My three objections:
A) It’s work but not that much work. Especially when I lower my cleaning standards. 😉 So is it really worth it? (maaaayybe)
B) I don’t want to hire a cleaner and then spend time cleaning before they get here. That’s annoying. I have better things to do with my paid for time. But I know PiC would be inclined to do this. This is a houseful of neurotics.
C) Cost: I’m not prepared to give up something to afford a cleaner just yet.
The assumption is that we have plenty of Disposable Income between the two of us. We do have enough to live comfortably now, with a few luxuries like eating well and traveling occasionally (on a budget of course), but that’s about it if we’re going to keep saving because I still pay a good chunk of Dad’s living expenses. I spend about $20K/year right off the top for his regular expenses, excluding medical or emergencies, and that’s less than ever before. He’s been working himself to the bone to make enough to pay for the utilities, gas, groceries, and any necessary incidentals. I can’t and don’t begrudge what I do still pay but that’s also money not available to pay for cleaning.
Still, I wonder whether it’d be worth stretching or wiggling the budget to make it happen.
Does anyone have help at home? What does it entail and how much does it cost?
January 19, 2013
I had a great conversation with twitter friend @neauxlah who shared her experience living through Katrina and subsequent hurricanes, and the insurance circumstances involved.
Disclaimer: Her experience discussed here are specific to Katrina so as she’s cautioned, many things may have changed since then. Having lived through a number of these incidents, Katrina was the worst. The most comprehensive information she’d found for FEMA wasn’t, unfortunately, available during Katrina. (I’ve updated the link from the “How you apply” page that won’t load to the Response Recovery page.)
First, meet @neauxlah: She’s lived in New Orleans for 14 years and been a resident of the Gulf Coast for most of her life. She’s worked in the insurance industry for six years and has another three years of experience in a law firm that handled all sorts of insurance claims. Both jobs taught her how insurance works, what coverages are necessary and more: she carries “ample coverage-renters, auto, medical, disability, etc and have never, ever had any problems with claims or payments.”
Her first few tweets caught my interest:
Flood Ins is a gov’t prog & is more every year to cover something that happens every 3-4 years.
(We) pay more towards our coverage so that we can use more of those Fed dollars.
As someone who received Fed aid during Katrina I had to pay that money BACK. With interest.
And of course, I wanted to know more, a lot more, about how it worked back then, more than could easily be tweeted. @neuxlah was kind enough to answer my questions:
If you have insurance you MUST recover from your insurance carrier FIRST before FEMA will even consider you…
Recovering from your insurance carrier in regards to flood/homeowners ins is an ongoing process. It takes a LONG time.
Q: Is hurricane damage is covered as part of regular insurance or does it have to be purchased as an additional rider?
A: Hurricane damage is a part of regular insurance but it has a separate deductible. It could be a flat of say $2-5,000 or it could be a percentage of the damage.
Also, most insurance companies won’t cover wind and hail damage in this area anymore and the majority of home and business owners now have to obtain that coverage through the insurer of last resort: Louisiana Citizens. Most states have an insurance organization like Citizens. They are always more expensive then a regular insurer.
Q. What’s the average or usual amount of time you should expect to put into the paperwork? And then how long does it take to get the money back from insurance?
A: The amount of time can vary depending on the insurer and the natural disaster. Most require that some form of payment be issued between 15-30 days from the date the claim (loss) was filed. However when it is a very large and catastrophic loss all of that goes out of the window. Ex: I didn’t receive any actual FEMA aid (a loan) until December and Katrina happened in August.
*Note* If you are unable to live in your home/apartment most policies cover housing. Those payments are issued fairly quickly- usually less then a week. But payments for actual losses can take much longer.
After you have exhausted all your ins THEN you can ask for assistance from FEMA in the form of a LOAN.
Q: Is there a period of time during which you must apply or do you have to prove you have exhausted the insurance somehow? Provide a letter from insurance?
A: Yes, there is a time period, usually a year or two from the date of loss, and yes, if you are a homeowner you do have to show proof that you have exhausted your insurance coverage first. That is relatively easy, though. If you manage your insurance online you should be able to print out proof of your policy limits as well as proof of payments towards your loss (or claim).
Q: What’s the usual interest rate from FEMA? How long is the loan typically good for? Do you get to apply for a variety of loan type? (ie: any kind of amount, length of time, etc?) Do you have a grace period to pay it back once your insurance comes in?
A: FEMA loans are made through the SBA and at the time I had my SBA loan my interest rate was around 3%. My loan was very small in comparison to most people and I had to re-pay it in six years vs their repayment agreements. I received my loan in November 2005 and my repayment didn’t begin until December 2006. This wasn’t a problem for me because once I received my insurance payment I just paid SBA back.
IF you don’t qualify for a loan then yes, you can apply for grant assistance. It is NOT easy, and it is NOT overnight..
FYI-most people qualify for the (low interest) loan. you have to be damn near in bankruptcy to get aid.
Q: So after exhausting your insurance and after applying for a loan you can get assistance. Is this again one of those “prove you have no means” situations? You have to pull all your bank accounts or something?
A: No. FEMA/SBA will ask about other assets during the loan process and before loaning money for your actual property they will ask for proof of the amount of the loss and proof that you have exhausted all other coverages. But I was not asked to use all of my savings towards my property damages prior to obtaining the loan. One thing I JUST realized: when I obtained my loan I wasn’t working ( I lost my job due to the Hurricane). I had NO income and they knew that! Hmm. I can only assume because of the nature of Katrina, a lot of rules weren’t being enforced.
If you don’t have insurance you pay the loan back over a certain # of years.
You can get a grant after trying everything else but that’s like six months later. Six months!
Q: Is the grant the same as aid?
A: I would consider the grant the same as aid. As with the grant they will ask for proof of your losses and once they have obtained sufficient information, the grant will be processed. I know people who rented and did not have flood insurance who received aid. Most of them did not receive any money until December/January.
Thanks so much for taking the time to answer my questions, @neauxlah!
~~ ~~ ~~
One of the reasons I’m so interested in disaster insurance and the practical applications thereof is, I’m just a nerd like that.
The other reason is: we live in Earthquake City, Earthquake State. This isn’t as scary as it could be, I’m not a newcomer to this sort of thing. We lived on a major faultline right through my early 20s and were close enough to feel our fair share of the Northridge quake back in the day. Shakes and quakes were pretty normal in SoCal. But just because nothing ever took us out before doesn’t mean we’re invulnerable.
And then I learned more about insurance. Once I went through all the kinds of damages that regular insurance will not cover if caused by an earthquake, I realized: well shoot. Once we own property, basically no costs would be covered in the all too likely event of an earthquake.
PiC asked me whether we should drop our earthquake rider recently, because it’s pretty expensive in comparison to our regular coverage for home or auto.
To my mind, it’s not prohibitively expensive (feels like it, but it’s not) in comparison to the risks we’re protecting against:
Walls in damages;
Structural damage;
Cost of living if the home is unlivable during repairs;
Cost of replacing essential belongings and furniture should it be damaged or destroyed- there’s also a difference in whether the company will give you the amount it costs to replace or just the “value” of the item. In the case of furniture, we have high-original-value, low-replacement cost items in the insurance’s view. We would need to opt for full-replacement-value in order to be able to afford them again. Especially since they were almost all good opportunity buys: from Craigslist or last season clearance sales.
If we have enough money to easily replace the majority of our belongings without breaking a sweat, or enough assets to cover the cost of repairs and living expenses, then I don’t see a problem with self insuring. But until then? I’d like to have that insurance for its original purpose: protection against risk of loss.
Does anyone else live in an area where natural disasters are common enough you’d need to be insured separately? Or even when you can’t get insurance for such a thing?
Would you make a different choice about insurance?
January 15, 2013
Our food spending this year was astronomical.
That is, in some ways, surprising.
I eat a lot less than before. No stress eating either. You’d think that’d reduce food costs somewhat but it really didn’t matter: PiC more than makes up for my here again, gone again appetite. While I skip meals when flying solo, being with him means at least one meal will happen a day. And if I’m Chef, even if I’m not hungry, I’m still compelled to make a real meal. Maybe to avoid the judgment when it’s looking like the five KitKats and a mini Snickers bar style dinner but also because cooking’s therapeutic. Besides, for someone that loves every single thing I try my hand at, even the things I think suck? Who would mind?
Anyway, the point is: this year’s food budget? Mostly for two people? Was, in a word: dammmnnn.
We spent nearly the exact same amount on Groceries as on Eating Out. Groceries included frozen meals, convenience foods, snack foods, fresh food, canned food.
With so many 12-14 hour days, there was just no time or energy to do fancy or creative meals on the weekdays. Instead, we’d make up big meals on weekends, freeze portions for later, experimented with new “quick” recipes. Not all of the experiments were successful, not in my opinion, but I evidently married a man who’d eat anything I make. Super helpful when you have a complex about food waste!
The ugliest pot pie ever. But it sure was tasty…
When I cook, I do a fair amount from scratch. Lots revolves around chicken, the affordable protein we love. I make stew, pot pies, roast our own chickens, and once every several months, put up chicken broth. We try different grains in bulk, and avoid red meat*. All of this nets pretty minor savings, but I enjoy the cooking and we both like simple healthy meals at home. Bonus: It keeps my roasting skills polished. No horrific dried out turkey for Thanksgiving for us, my favorite meal of the year. Can you imagine ruining 20 lbs of turkey?
*I love steak but have an irrational fear of ruining it so I refuse to cook it. PiC does not love it like I do.
Double roasting. The honey cooks faster and make it look like it’s burnt but it’s just extra delicious, extra crispy skin. I’m loving the new roasting pan.
We had convenience and frozen foods as patches for no-cooking days, and traveling weekends when no cooking would happen. Pretty sure we also paid for groceries for other people on occasion. That’d be included in here. Couponing is an as-and-when activity instead of a weekly past-time.
Eating Out included: fine dining, treating friends to meals or snacks or anything food, special occasion meals, casual dining, fast food, drinks.
For day to day life, where we used to have a cap on the number of times we’d eat out or order in, this year has been rough enough that I finally just stopped fussing about sticking to an artificial number. Yes, it’s more expensive, yes, it’s not always the healthy choice and no, I’m not going to sweat it. Bottom line, we needed to eat, our working weekdays were far too long some days to do anything but come home and forage, and we could afford it.
A deconstructed kebab from Tuba Restaurant. We get to try new fancy-ish stuff in the city when visitors come to town!
Food, all kinds of it, both “high-end” and the remarkably pedestrian stuff we enjoy, was a spending priority for us, a clear trade of money for time or mental health, clocking in at about $6500.
It’ll be interesting to see this coming year’s spending. I have more opportunity to make time to cook on weeknights now, and if we eat out, it’s on weekends instead. Will it balance out or stay the same?
January 10, 2013
Specifically, the Dominos in Millbrae.
Last Friday, I had an overwhelming craving for pizza. This happens. What hasn’t happened in a while is that I specifically wanted to give Domino’s up here in the Bay Area a try. I have a tried and true place in Southern California and that’s what gave me the idea: we have several Domino’s competitors much closer to us but I remembered my good old days of ordering a Domino’s pizza (or two … I was a hungry teenager) once or twice a month and it felt like a good time to go back to the classics.
Bad Call.
We went well out of our way during a night full of errands to pick up two pizzas (because two people, two pizzas, right?)
It took us a fair while to finish the errands, get home, unload the car, walk the dog, get the rest of dinner on the table. When we finally sat down to eat, it was pretty cold but best of all: PiC found hair in the pizza!
All together now: GROSS. I couldn’t believe I’d sent positive reviews via the online app before eating but I’d never ever had this happen over a lifetime of a whole LOT of pizzas so I didn’t think to wait until we were done. Almost bemusedly, mostly horrified, I watched him pick out the hairs, and I sent a new message about the hair, nearly automatically.
After a few minutes I realized, well, that’s not going to do anything. I called the store, explained what happened and asked for a refund.
The female taking the call interrupted me to talk to someone else, then came back: what?
I couldn’t tell if the “what?” was for the explanation, the refund, or just a general ambiguous blanket “I really wasn’t listening,” so I asked if she’d caught anything I’d just said at all. “Umm, no.”
There were four or five males in the shop and one female when I left it, none of them wearing hairnets mind you, she picks up the phone but can’t be bothered to listen to the caller?
I explain again: we picked up our order about an hour and a half ago, but we found hair in the pizza. I’d like a refund.
“Well, first of all, we don’t give refunds anyway, but you waited two hours to call.”
Oh, yes, I delayed my call because I wanted to spend some time with my hair laden pizza. And that totally invalidates the fact that there was hair in my pizza. That ticked me off. And she wasn’t really listening to me anymore so I doubt she noticed I got frosty when she asked if I wanted to talk to the manager. I just took the number and hung up. At that point, I was livid.
Because, hi, fine print of Dominos:
What’s that? You have a guarantee?
“If you are not completely satisfied with your Domino’s Pizza experience, we will make it right or refund your money.”
I’ll tell you what, what I like even better than unhygienic pizza? Being lied to.
It was late, I was fed up with that crap. I didn’t want to speak to another person over the phone so I (politely) wrote to Corporate. And I get a response saying (summary):
Oh we’re so sorry, we have to let the location know, so please wait three days for them to respond. If you don’t hear back, let us know.
I was angry but not totally unreasonable. I waited three days. Silence. I wrote back to Corporate informing them of the silence. The onus was now on them to “make it right.” By refunding my money at this point. A “we’ve passed this note on” confirmation came back.
Days later: still silence. I’m done waiting.
Domino’s: This location definitely no longer has my business or my support. But since the company has gone silent and hasn’t bothered to honor their guarantee I don’t see why they should have my business either. Considering my household spent over $3000 eating out alone last year, a cut of that might have been nice but in this booming economy, who needs another customer, right?
And I’d like my money back, thanks.
January 8, 2013
10. His fearsome visage still gives some strangers pause but his calm (stoic) personality has won over more than a few dog-phobics. One person who used to run away from him on sight thinks he’s actually pretty cool, now.
9. Since surgery, and Christmas, he’s been super bouncy. As in, his hind end swivels up and gets air time when he’s excited about something. When we’re going for a walk, and when his papa gets home.
8. Dad is still his NUMBER ONE but he’s been slightly more affectionate and attentive to me and I’m loving it. ie: He’ll come to “say hi” to me after one walk a day, and touch noses with me. But I only get 3 seconds to react and touch noses with him.
7. He’s got this hilarious fascination with babies in strollers. Covered strollers pique his curiosity more than a Thanksgiving turkey leg in reach. Literally.
6. He hasn’t any mental connection with his hind end. His tail smacks into walls, he’s perturbed. His tail knocks over things, he jumps like he’s been attacked. His rear *ahem* toots too loudly and he runs away in fear of his own bum! The last is most insulting when you’re sharing an office with him and he leaves you with the gift of Silent and Deadly gas bombs. “What was that? Ew. It’s smelly in here, bye!”
5. One time only: He’s signaled that he really wanted to go out, seriously guys, let’s go. Normally, he just waits til he’s told we’re going out, then he dances in place as we prep for the walk. One day, he went into doggy dance mode, stalked us, danced some more, stalked his dense humans from room to room until he couldn’t take it anymore, then reached out and whacked his da with his paw.
6. One time only: A few weeks after surgery, he was so excited about a walk that he reached down and grabbed his sling. He’s never done that before or since.
5. Social interaction: He has a small collection of toys that he will carefully select from, one at a time, to carry out for the afternoon and show off when it’s his self designated play time. We’re allowed to play catch for about five minutes at most, and then he takes the toy and settles down with it and a “please leave now” air.
4. Strange talents: He can hear me putting on pants from any room in the house.
3. Vocalizing: He used to match PiC snore for snore.
2. Innocence: He nearly bit me (accidentally) once when we were playing and immediately turned it into the biggest ohhh-what’s-over-theerrrree YAWN.
1. He lets me lay on top of him for a full squishy hug.
I wish I could share so many pictures of him but he’d out us in a flapjack second. I’d love to see and share photos of your little and large darlings, though!
So all of this is to say, Doggle is wonderful and in 2012, he cost about $8500. We love you, Doggle. We love you.
January 5, 2013
The roller-coaster that was 2012 ground to an end after one hell of a year. Most dominant were my health problems. It seemed like the last quarter of the year, with a job change that allowed me to work remotely most of the time, could only bring improvements. But alas, the best laid plans, hm?
A hopeful and determined-to-do-better foray into self care and pain management set off an unanticipated avalanche. Instead of simple relief, I was gifted with a swap of symptoms, incredibly even less manageable and less tolerable than the usual bone-wrenching pain, and unending marrow-deep fatigue.
In my short educational course on chronic pain given by pain specialists, we learned that pain uses the same neural pathways as depression. People who live with unabated or untreatable chronic pain, pain that lasts more than (3, 6, 12 months, or beyond the “expected time to heal”, I was told, are almost certainly depressed: biologically, your brain has been using a pain/depression pathway repeatedly so it’s essentially programmed depression into your brain; realistically, being in pain constantly is draining and having a constant limitation is frakkin’ depressing!
You may have no control over the situation, the pain limits your life and abilities in ways you didn’t anticipate, cannot or do not wish to become accustomed to. “If you’re not depressed now,” the pain specialist physician said, “you’re lying.”
The thing was, I understood the mechanics of why pain = depression thing intellectually. But after nearly twenty years of living with unceasing pain, increasing pain, discovering and failing to surmount increasing limits, I had not yet *felt* the deep-down, isolating, spiraling, rending drag of depression.
I’ve seen it before. I’ve had friends and family drag those demons, firmly attached to their ankles until they finally made it to the other side or curl up in their corners until it all went away. But, for whatever reason, in the face of unrelenting pain and everything else life was throwing at me, I didn’t feel the bite myself.
The pain was a deciding factor in life. Horrible when it flared, but I could trudge through, finding whatever it took to do what I needed to do. (Never mind what I wanted to do. Never mind what I wished for.) I was sad, of course, and sometimes bitter.
Angry at times. I had lost what felt like almost everything: my intended career path, my ability to run, my confidence in my physical strengths which had dwindled down to nearly nothing, my hobbies, my ability to breathe, my stamina to live a full and fulfilled life. I have to question every single thing I do and whether it’s worth the energy loss.
But the anger, bitterness or sad would ebb, and I’d move on. There was work to do. Family and friends to care for. Things to fix.
Until now.
~~~
This fall’s tradeoff for physical functionality being able to get out of bed, walk for more than a few minutes without stopping for breath, not having to hold my breath and force myself power through when the price I pay is being flat on my back for hours or days was mental stability. My center of rational gravity was totally AWOL, disappeared into the quicksand mire of depression and suicidalism.
Each day, though nothing was worth it anymore, though two hands took away and give a finger-length back, a ghost of grit-it-out remained.
At least I can work.
At least I can breathe.
At least I can cook a meal.
At least I can wash five dishes.
At least I can be useful.
Sort of.
(Not really.)
Over and over, day after day, staggering under an assault the likes of which I’d never experienced before, the betrayal of my body seemed like a bargain in comparison to the betrayal of my mind, washing out the foundations of my faith, my drive, my self worth.
Divided against myself, my selves hung, suspended into immobility. The only certainty – I’d done my duty and more than done it and these tatters of my life were a testament to how little my efforts were worth.
Personality, drowned in lassitude, watched the body trying to focus on work, focus on making a dinner, focus on clearing up after.
Body, an automaton, performing duties that look “normal” to keep the world at bay, held off the final dregs of failure, shut out the chant of the mind.
Mind, railing against the life it’d rolled dice for, bore under Atlassian pressures for, sacrificed for. Thrown beyond not wanting to live this life, it couldn’t comprehend anything left, only myriad reasons for leaving.
Every natural instinct was dampened, every nerve and synapse firing prematurely, reactionary and flaring.
Life, I viewed through layers of alternating fury and despair.
~~~
In those muffling and stifling layers, I knew this was off balance. I just didn’t care.
I never don’t care. I care about many things: social equalities, personal achievements, the environment, driving my career, innovating, growing as a person, helping others. Cleanliness, neatness…
But with my mind fractured like this, I was my own worst nightmare. A cripple in every sense of the word. I didn’t have any desire to try when trying was just pain, draining me, like cold death.
For weeks into months, I just held on, anchored by a slim thread. By an unreleased breath. I wasn’t achieving. Wasn’t innovating. Wasn’t happy. Wasn’t resigned or at peace with the illness anymore – I was angry that this was it and none of it worth a thing.
~~~
This was incredibly frustrating for PiC. Because I couldn’t fathom making plans for a day, much less a week or month out. Because all he could see was me, huddled, in the corner. Because he couldn’t hear or understand the litany in my mind. No matter what he said or did, it hurt.
I literally didn’t even have words or voice to speak most days. Because I hated needing help, I hated getting help, I hated that deep down I was convinced that nearly no one believed or understood I had a legitimate problem I couldn’t “just deal with” or “manage.” For certain, no one could comprehend how I really had to live to survive, the world at large just assumed it was easy.
Knowing that I was a frustrating, horrible person to live with, despair or not, underscored the sense of loss. This wasn’t how it should have been. He deserved better.
~~~
For so many years, pretending to the outside world that I was fine, strong and capable was my coping mechanism. Never a smiley chirper – not unless something made me really happy. But fine. Strong. Competent. Unflappable. Partly because no one wants to be around a chronically sick or limited person, accommodating the cripple you’re probably not convinced has a real problem is a pain. Partly because constantly needing accommodations made it more real, partly because if I pretended I was fine, for a few minutes, I could BE fine.
That was maybe not the best way to deal with it. Certainly not for communicating about an invisible disease. But it got me through so much. That and not knowing how to give up.
Then Mom’s passing knocked everything out from under me.
Her support, the sensible loving guidance, I hadn’t had in nearly a decade. I had to think to remember the last time she could travel, could enjoy life, could have fun with me. But I still hadn’t given up, I was certain I could get my Mom back. And I was wrong. For almost a decade, I’d been wrong.
During that time, my sibling’s ups, downs, and ultimate descent into a mad babble – everything I’d done with him was wrong too.
My family, demolished. My strength, gone. My stamina, a faint memory. My future, what future? What future could rise from these ashes?
What else had I been wrong about? Had I done anything right?
~~~
Finally, I gave up on those medications meant to bring me peace, a devil’s bargain, a mind for a body, that revealed a Canto of Hell heretofore unexplored, and took my chances alone, unaided, unbuoyed.
How much worse could it get?
Pain rose and fell as it would. Day after day, I skipped the usual doses until it was unbearable, until I couldn’t move for the lances of pain.
And slowly, pieces of my mind, my self, joined disparate and crackly ends back together. Some quietly, some, continents crashing into each other. The bonding is still fragile, they shiver under stress. But the ragged, jagged edges are less exposed, less a raw nerve laid bare.
I’d never given up before, not even in the darkest nights. So I don’t exactly know what this path will be. How and when it’ll zig, zag or drop out from under my feet.
But I think I remember how to keep moving. That muscle memory may be all that I had left, last fall. And that may be all I need. The worst might be behind me now. Maybe. I don’t know.
Either way, I’m still here today. And I’ll probably be here tomorrow. And that’s not nothing.
~~~
Insight to living with pain, by others:
Katie at Girl with Red Balloon: life with constant migraines, and risk of hemorrhaging thanks to brain
Tessa: writes an incredibly apt comic strip on life with chronic illness.
January 1, 2013
Just like that, the New Year’s slipped in the door, all kinds of Bowls are on the telly while Doggle sighs and flops dramatically while PiC and I tap away at our keyboards.
I’ve been working since we returned from a pretty stressful Christmas trip back home so any recap or reflection posts will come later. Right now, I’m taking a quick look at things we’ve decided. Backwards? Sure. But it’s what works for me right now! 🙂
Things to Do
1. New-to-us furniture in, some old furniture and possessions out:
Even at the slow-mo rate that I collect books and comics, PiC wanted another bookcase. We’ve talk-imagined how to fit this in because I’m getting Possessions Claustrophia. We agreed that if we’re adding furniture, we have to get rid of some things because it’s getting crowded in here!
To make this work, we both committed to:
A) clearing out enough shoes to eliminate a small shoe rack
B) selling his extra never-used bike and moving the remaining bike
C) reorganizing the current storage system in the existing book shelf, perhaps with nice containers for the non book items.
*PiC has always been in charge of the furniture and decor by default, I don’t tend to care about those details as long as we’re not spending or collecting too much. It’s nice to be able to participate in this discussion without feeling frustrated and come out with an agreed plan.
2. Tackling the second closet. We have very limited storage here and we’re not making the most of the space.
A) We’ve collected too many coolers, big and small, and I’m pretty sure that at least one can be returned. Perhaps one can be regifted or sold. It’s a novelty item.
B) We have an unwielding shelving system that came with the place. Time to rethink!
3. There’s at least one bit of paperwork left to sort from leaving my ex-employer.
DO THAT.
Moving towards more simplicity and focus, J. Money and I are on the same wavelength there!
Actual Goals
Money: We’re almost ready to review the last year’s spending and create this year’s budget. If we’re going to talk about a house property, then we need to get serious about money allocation.
A) Create budget based on more realistic savings and spending needs for 2013. Lots of big travel anticipated this year and if we’re doing it, we need to be careful how the cash flows. Our first year of shared but not combined expenses (lack of action, courtesy of my health difficulties) really could have been better and I hate wasting time and opportunity. Allowances, here we come!
B) Refinance this place.
C) Save at least $35k toward new house stuff.
** I’ve not posted any monthly reports since last year because I didn’t know how to present the numbers coming from just mine to both of ours. Still haven’t figured that out yet.
Fitness: PiC has insane-to-me fitness goals but I’m supporting him. From the sofa.
Haha yes and no .. I have been adding some careful gymming to my life lately in 15-20 minute increments and I am going to try and add a little bit more exercise at a time. Maybe I can even work up to running short distances? I would love a buddy who works at my level because at the moment, PiC and I are at the opposite ends of the fitness spectrum and I enjoy working out w/others. Then again, I can just go to a happy place to work out too – I love solo time.
The active/competitive spirit in me was slowly waking up in the last couple weeks and I just want to be able to do some things I used to: run a mile in good time, go for long walks and feel refreshed – not depleted, regain flexibility and stamina.
Not all of that is under my control: I don’t know how my body will react on any given day, much less to any of the pie in the sky fitness hopes, but I think it’s realistic to have a fitness plan menu from which I can slowly work on weak areas as and when I’m feeling up to it or just thinking I can.
I have to start somewhere!
I’m both a touch envious of but also proud of my IRL and online friends taking on new fitness challenges this year (@patti_v in her August race!) and will join them in my own small way.
Career: This new job requires a lot of stretching, some of which I simply don’t feel ready for, and others of which are brainmeldingly frustrating but sort of fun because I’m learning new things again.
It’s time to get back on the horse with regard to balancing the time I spend on the full time job, which could turn into 20 hrs a day, 7 days a week if I let it, and exploring what other projects are out there just waiting to be kicked around. One idea that’s been floating for a long time has to do with my management experience. I spend a fair amount of time helping out a few fellow bloggers with hiring, career and other related advice. Perhaps it’s worth exploring that as a real side job?
Happy New Year, everyone, what’s on your mind for this coming year?
