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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September 21, 2011
First impressions rarely survive the heat of examination
“You don’t seem to be the kind of girl/lady who [fill in the blank with any of my hobbies, interests, or responsibilities].”
Talking to @thefitlounge on Twitter about first impressions, I was amused by the idea that anyone could be offended by a wrong first impression. They were pretty standard in my experience whether I meant to give them or not.
In college, I was described as a “Forever-21 seeming kind of girl” as someone’s confessed first impression. As a skinny-@$$ed kid who wore tank tops and jeans on a West Coast college campus teeming with a million other lookalikes, that was not out of line as far as superficial descriptions went. I did buy tank tops at Forever 21. They were cheap, and I had other priorities. (Bills.) That’s not what he meant, of course. He meant: some variety of a spoiled Asian girl with more time and money than brains, at college because her parents made her go not because she had any goals or ambitions beyond pledging a sorority or following the trend of the month, and seeking the most fashion I could find to catch the eye of the hottest guy on campus. We were surrounded by the like, after all.
Since then, I’ve been pegged as all kinds of other similarly superficial, very stereotypical, “female types.” I’ve been pigeonholed professionally by bad bosses as the “bait” for vendors, clients and colleagues (ick, ugh, and laughable), I’ve been initially dismissed as “only a girl” by people who thought I couldn’t possibly deal with the pressure of X, Y, or Z because of my size or my sex, I’ve been blinked at by people who didn’t expect that I’d bleed geek or finance if you cut me.
Growing past the stereotypes
The people who mattered got past the notion, or the outside face if it was an intentional wall I kept up not to let them in at all, that I was not just a 2-D female. They found that I was a person with a brain and the gumption was of my determination, not dictated by size, sex, weight or anything else. They discovered that while I could be just a simple country girl, I’m a little more complex than that.
I’ve lived a bit of life. I’ve flown in a home-built two-seater plane with a oil tycoon to hear the story of how it was built and why it flew better than his other planes; I learned how to ride horses and practiced martial arts; I learned basic car repairs and diagnostics with mechanically savvy friends so that mechanics couldn’t just pull a fast one because gee whillikers, lil lady, this here part that doesn’t exist needs replacing. (Though, shady mechanics will try that with anyone, male or female.)
I’ve adventured to Comic-Con in many phases: as a volunteer, as an attendee, alone, later with friends, and still later, brought friends who had never been. And for the love of money planning, should anyone in real life accidentally ask me a finance-related question, they’ll trigger a flood of information accumulated over the years.
Then there’s all of my background and history that only lives here on my blog – none of my family or financial life is really casual conversation so on meeting me, you might assume that I had a normal family with a normal childhood and had financial support to go to college and maybe held a job or two afterward.
Working with me, you’d be really confused because I still look like some really young age but I hold an incredible amount of responsibility and I’ve got a very strict code of professionalism so I must be old, but … am I? And I’ll never tell how old I am either. Because where’s the fun in that? 😉
The Value of the Superficial Judgment
In all of this, I’d come to realize that while it was valuable that I didn’t actually care what certain people (the average person on the street) thought of me, the fact that in general, people tend to judge based on appearances meant that any efforts put into directing those thoughts could make a difference where it’s important.
I do care whether people think of me as a “young professional” or don’t really think about my age at all because my physical attributes are just groomed enough to walk a middle ground of dressing for success at the level I want to be at but not being casual (like our C-suite) or overly gussied up.
That’s where Shelley’s suggestion of creating a “uniform” of sorts makes sense to me. I can’t afford a fully kitted out wardrobe with a huge variety of options and I don’t need it either. But a small, carefully crafted professional set of clothing to last a week is just about right.
I rely on the first impression that my professional dress will convey: that I’m someone to take seriously because I’m well-groomed and take my job and career seriously, to offset the first impression that I know my usual lackadaisical self would have given. And then my work speaks for me.
In everyday life, I’m a casual person so I dress accordingly so as not to give the impression that I’m anything different. In that “version” of me, I’m not motivated to dress much more nicely on average since I like to be able to play with dogs, read, work on the computer, do household chores, cook, clean, run errands, or any number of random things. And I’m often reserving the good stuff for work. 🙂 I might be cleaning up my act a little bit overall and eliminating some of the far-too-casual from my wardrobe as I creep toward my 30s but on the whole, comfort is the watchword for the weekends.
:: Have you been commonly stereotyped in the past or present? Was it a stereotype that bothered you or worked for you?
:: Are you a different version of yourself in different places?
Related Topics:
Fabulously Broke on Does holding or wearing designer anything, automatically mean you’re a high maintenance shopaholic?
Stacking Pennies on Designer Brands
September 19, 2011
There were so many great and interesting comments left on my post about whether or not to have children that I had trouble responding to enough of them in the comments. I appreciated everyone’s thoughts on their personal situations and decision-making.
I also had second, third and several other thoughts about whether or not to discuss one particular theme of the comments further, partly because there was a reason I left out some important, relevant information out: I didn’t necessarily want that to be the center of the post and I tend to leave that subject under wraps.
But it was an underlying theme of the comments because I left it out and it is relevant to the conversation because it’s a huge part of my life even if I do try to pretend that it’s not. Like it or no, the physical limitation aspect of my life is a factor in every decision I make, every minute of every day. And it’s not like I haven’t mentioned it once or twice before, so I’m not sure why I still instinctively try to sweep it under the rug like it’s not a big deal.
So, comments first:
@thecelt, you made me laugh out loud. PRECISELY. There IS no “kinda-kid” out there. So I want to know for sure. If I’m doing this, I’m committing!
@Sense: From the Mixed up Files was an absolute favorite. Definitely fed the runaway fantasies. 😉
@MovingEast: I actually think through those cliches without feeling like they’re cliches… they are true. I see new parents experiencing the wonder of new kids in their lives and I love it. And I see the decisions they have to make and learn from that too. It’s not that I don’t think they’re worth it once you choose it, in the abstract.
@nicoleandmaggie: He will have to be more than half the parent, I think, and that’s what I worry about. It’s got to be something we’re both willing to sacrifice for because I suspect (see below) it’s going to be excruciating in the beginning for me and then a huge commitment with most of the burden shifting to him. Emotionally, I may have a lot of trouble with that. For me. (Selfishly. Whatever. Again, see below.)
@oilandgarlic: No judgement on anyone else but I definitely want to know now because I don’t want to start in my mid-30’s. For me, I feel like that would be waiting too long because of how my health has progressed.
*****
On the point where PiC and I have to talk this out: we do, when it comes to making the final decision.
I do only speak for myself on this blog and frequently leave his thoughts out of it because he doesn’t have any desire to be present here. (I’ve asked.) But that’s not to say he doesn’t know my concerns and worries, and he understands them. The evolution of my feelings on the subject hasn’t been a secret to him.
He’s not terribly concerned about our different feelings on the matter, we’ll figure it out together, he’s always known that we’ve been coming at this from different personal experiences.
*****
I live with something that’s long mimicked rheumatoid arthritis (or lupus) and fibromyalgia. It’s neither of the first two so far as tests are concerned, but most of the symptoms match up. It started out affecting just a few areas, umpteen years ago, but now it’s everywhere, and any combination of joints and muscles are usually at some level of pain akin to holding an open flame against that muscle or joint every single day.
I spent over fifteen years trying to get a diagnosis and the conclusion is only that I have chronic pain, which isn’t a diagnosis. It’s only a conclusion and defines my experience: pain that doesn’t stop, that has lasted over six months, and doesn’t necessarily have a definitive origin. Stress, being tired, lack of sleep all exacerbate the pain and pain causes all three in a feedback loop. Awesome. That was still better than the many years of idiot doctors telling me that it wasn’t possible for me to be feeling the kind of pain that I was feeling.
When it flares, I can be out of commission for hours, days, or weeks at a time. At the beginning of any flare, I won’t know what the damage will be or how long it’ll last. Stress of the emotional or physical sort can start a flare. Energy is severely limited. There are days typing on a keyboard, lifting a pen, or using a knife and a fork requires too much effort. I have to be incredibly selective about how much activity I commit to because if I push myself too hard these days? Too much of anything can cause fatigue and pain that effectively destroys my ability to functions for days thereafter.
If you haven’t read it, the Spoon Theory describes the way someone living with this sort of thing has to rework life strategies. And the Bloggess summed up how you feel during/after a flare pretty well.
So you might better understand my reluctance to head right into motherhood on the basis of physical limitations. It’s more than just an age thing, it’s more than just a “normal” reluctance. I’m starting from the knowledge that not only do I not have my once-vaunted capacity to power through any and all challenges anymore, I have to be very careful that I don’t step into, essentially, a lifelong landmine. Bringing life into this world is a serious business and the last thing I want to do is make a hash of it because I don’t have it in me to carry through.
******
One way to make this work is to be financially stable enough to afford child care. A lot of it. I don’t feel right about not raising my own children, but I’m not foolish enough to think that I could do a lot of the physical stuff on my own anymore. If we were earning enough that one of us could stay home with the kids, and also had some help with the kids to make up for my part, that could be one way to handle the situation.
Alternatively, I don’t have to bear our children. Instead, we could do what I’ve always wanted to do: adopt. That comes with its own risks, challenges and expenses but that’s an option I’ve always loved and saves at least the physical burden of pregnancy.
I’ve been concerned about that because, though childless, I help others with their kids a lot, and it wipes me out. Every. Single. Time. That tells me that I’m not prepared for the physical challenges of pregnancy. And as recounted by many many friends in stark honesty? The fatigue, the internal upheaval, the damage to the body? I am not prepared for that.
Ultimately, we have a lot to discuss and decide.
September 15, 2011
Driving into work on Tuesday morning, I rang up ING Direct to see if we/PiC could take advantage of their Mortgage Blowout.
Their teaser rate was a 5-year fixed for 2.55% (2.606% APR).
They were also offering:
* Rate Renewal feature – If you qualify, you can relock your rate and extend your fixed rate period for another 5 years at the Easy Orange rate offered at that time – all for one payment which is equal to 2 of your bi-weekly payments (maximum payment of $5,000).
* No points or hidden fees
* Free bi-weekly payments – Pay down your mortgage faster with an extra payment each year.
We did a brief rundown on the building itself, the loan, and the most recently assessed value of the property. It turns out that our/his loan to value ratio is still at 75% and ING is requiring a 65% LTV ratio so the highest loan they would offer at the moment is still $70k less than what we’d need to fully refi the loan.
For a crazy, crazy moment I seriously considered throwing some cash at the loan to make it happen but that only lasted a split second. My old anti-debt Pay-It-DOWN instincts rearing up. You know how that goes.
We’ll pass for now but I’ll be keeping an eye on the whole mortgage situation now that we’re getting closer to merging finances and therefore getting closer to putting me in charge.
*ahem*
But c’mon. We all know that I’m going to be the CFO of this family even if I am learning to share.
September 12, 2011
Technically, the term is “petite” but either I take that a bit further than everybody else in some areas or stores are even vanity sizing their Petites selections. (If the latter: Please, please stop it.)
As an ambitious professional, I’ve long accepted that my inner slob, the comfort-driven woman who prefers to lounge in a We Aim to Misbehave t-shirt and jeans or sweatpants, is never allowed to meet the people I work with if I want to be taken seriously. Sleepy-drunk self would be less infantilizing than me Au Natural. I was just mistaken for 17 years of age last weekend. Amid all the “oh you should be flattered”s, it’s a bit exasperating because it means I do have to keep trying.
I’ve improved enough, despite hiccups along the way, that current colleagues don’t make ageist comments as former ones did thanks to a combination of make-up assistance from someone way younger than me than I like to admit 😉 and inspiration from our lovely petite style bloggers.
The biggest key in this struggle of finding clothes that make sense, after conquering the basics of what should go on top, what should go on bottom and what scatters in between, is fit.
It’s not enough that you parse the bits about color, layers, seasons if you have them, the culture, and so on. The most paramount decision of all is whether your wardrobe actually fits your body.
Enter, the Tailor
Finding a good fit is nigh on impossible in today’s sizing environment, and that means spending/budgeting extra for the expertise that makes an off the rack piece actually work. Being a frugal dresser already requires tenacity and creativity – adding the cost of a tailor amplifies the challenge to dress professionally in a reasonable budget by a factor of ten.
The tough thing is that my two sides (Budget vs. Career) are constantly bickering over what’s reasonable. They’re like Spy v Spy, locked in never-ending battle. Starting the search for petite clothing that is already in higher demand and lower supply, then adding this Fit Issue, well, the stakes rise even higher.
While combining sales and coupons is the time-honored frugalite’s weapon, the absolute best way to be frugal when it comes to style and fashion is to be stylishly creative: reusing what’s in the closet with a critical eye in thirty bajillion ways so that people think it’s new.
I’m total crap at that.
And then there’s an accompanying caveat that each purchase must have impact – it must be versatile so I can wear it to work or to after-work functions, it must be classic so that cost per wear becomes negligible, it must be the Holy Grail of Wardrobe Additions. *the pressure* It’s no wonder I hate shopping so much.
A Situation
Since moving up to the Bay Area, I hadn’t ventured forth to a tailor. Since the COL is so much higher here, I was hesitant to discover the cost of alterations. After my, frankly, cheap cost of labor in Southern CA, I just knew that sticker shock was in my future. Even actively avoiding it, I had a sense of the cost and a shudder ran up my spine. (A dry cleaner could charge $20-25 for hemming trousers?? Seriously?? I paid nearly that much for a full suit alteration back home! No, Toto, definitely not in Kansas anymore.)
With a pending business trip and a big sale plus a 20% off coupon on a really nice jacket from Ann Taylor, I braved my tailoring demons, and in the doing, found myself with even more questions.
The 00P jacket cost $178 originally. With a sale and a combined 20% coupon, I paid $60 plus tax. Upon arrival, however, the shoulders were a little too wide, the sleeves were a couple inches too long, the back was too wide and the sides needed to be tucked in. Jacket quality was high and this would fill the hole in my closet for a fitted blazer. But I was happy to return it if the tailor felt it needed too much work, or it wasn’t possible, to make it fit me.
After my fitting, in a monumental display of stupidity, I left the jacket with the tailor after having all the requisite pinning done, without getting a quote for the work.
I always get a quote for work beforehand so I can decide whether or not I’m going to even commit to alterations or if the clothes are going straight back. I have no idea why I walked away without one this time. I was even planning to take a different suit with me on this trip, so I wasn’t dependent on that jacket should things not work out.
In any case, when I came back to see the results of this first visit with this tailor, they were spectacular. Like, black eye spectacular. The jacket was really something to behold – it fit so perfectly it looks like a bespoke jacket, but it’ll leave a mark on my pocketbook for a while. The jacket’s tailoring cost more than the jacket: $94.
Total Cost: $156
It was nearly full price for a basically perfect fit. Was it worth it? Would I have paid that much for a jacket that fit exquisitely? I suspect that I still would have tried to wait it out.
Should the question be: “is it acceptable to pay more for tailoring than the cost of the item?” or should it be: “is the total cost of the item that is acceptable?”
For my money, I think the latter is the true question and that has to be part of my whole clothing budget.
::: What’s your experience when it comes to buying off the rack? Can you?
August 26, 2011
Let’s talk careers for a minute. My experience with this has been specific to the younger crowd in their 20s and 30s, but I don’t know if it applies across the board with other personalities as well.
I’m declaring a moratorium on bringing your parents to work.
In person, I have no problem with parents in the workplace. And I’m not talking about as employees, employees who are parents are a-ok with me. I mean parents of employees. In fact, it’s kind of fun when parents want to do the Open House sort of thing and show up to see where their kids work for a short visit and say hello and that sort of thing. It’s not only fun, it’s cute. It shows they care. Take an interest. You know.
The once in a while, planned, or drop in for a quick hello and appropriate to the occasion, visit is not the topic of today’s conversation.
What I’m talking about are today’s employees who bring their parents with them mentally as backup into professional conversations, not just casual conversations.
I’m finding that more and more employees quite naturally make requests for special accommodations, raises or promotions or are engaged in some kind of career decision-making, for some reason, think they should cite their parents in the doing.
“My parents think it’s a good idea.”
“My parents think I’m really good at this.”
“My parents want [me to do] this.”
“I need to discuss this with my parents and get back to you.”
………………….
Why would you do that? Why would you say that? I’m not quite sure if the manager is meant to attribute more weight to the request because your parents thought it was a good idea but I can tell you that it doesn’t entirely paint you in the light that you might intend. What it does do is that it makes it very hard for someone new in their career to be taken entirely seriously. It makes it difficult for an adult to be taken seriously as an adult who can think for him or herself.
In all honesty, I’m sure that most who have a good relationship with their parents quite possibly use them as a sounding board. And there is absolutely no shame in that – it’s the smart thing to do if your parents are sensible, in touch with the professional world or give good advice or love you or whatever the rationale may be. Heck, even if they give bad advice and you just don’t want to hurt their feelings!
But that is a very personal relationship: they are your parents, and if you are using them as your primary justification for your request or suggest that the rationale came from them, it will give the impression that your professional decisions are driven in large or equal part by your parents. How firmly that impression sticks depends on how much you belabor the point.
Don’t.
It’s much like referencing your friends in your decision-making. It’s far too casual, it’s irrelevant, and it’s diminishing your judgment capabilities. Would you really want that?
It’s also somewhat akin to using your parents as a reference. I really doubt that any hiring manager worth his or her salt would accept that because of the clear conflict of interest in that – once again – this is a parent we’re talking about. Go on, Ask A Manager.
But in the meantime, please, please don’t bring your parents to work, and don’t let your friends do it either. It’s not good for anyone.
August 23, 2011
PiC’s sold his car!
This brings down the total final cost of his/Doggle’s chariot to just about $3000. (Give or take, I was … not listening to the registration cost update…. for some reason. “Husband/wife frequencies” have set in. For those not familiar with the phrase, I’m jokingly referring to the supposed phenomenon that people stop listening to their partners after marriage. We really do fail to listen/hear each other because we’re not really paying attention but we just repeat later. Don’t worry, it’s just a running joke.)
It occurred to me, as I was walking the laundry to the bedroom and half listening to the whole sale process update, that I’ve become remarkably hands off with certain things. Then I wondered if I’m leaving those things that are typically left to the menfolk.
Thinking back a year or so to the back-home household, I did everything that I had time for no matter whose domain it might fall in: Searching for grocery bargains/couponing, debt payoff, savings, investing, planning for the future, deciding when to buy, sell, fix and maintain the household vehicles, repairs around the house or arranging for them to happen: all the money, all the time, all my area. There were certain tasks I delegated when I ran out of time, but nothing’s out of my territory.
But time is finite, things have to fall out to others and I had to start trusting that someone else could take the reins. Sharing a household up north, I’ve stepped back to let PiC set the pace rather than just jumping in and doing everything. There was no reason, and certainly it wouldn’t be sane, with another able-bodied and fully capable adult, to take on a second household’s responsibilities solo.
But we never really discussed who would do what, formally or directly. We just did what needed to be done, day to day and month to month. I started thinking about why it was that I left the car stuff to PiC. Was I just ceding the car stuff because it was a “guy thing”?
How do we divide our labor?
We’ve trended toward the things we like best or doing the things that achieve the goals that are most important to us.
I enjoy cooking, cleaning as I go, and serving meals. It’s a thing my dad and I enjoy doing but he always took the lion’s share of the responsibility since I worked more than 60 hour weeks. Now with just the two of us, feeding ourselves isn’t really a choice and I’ve lucked out that PiC’s got an easy palate to please to boot. It also takes less out of me than vacuuming or washing floors if I’m not overly ambitious.
I love finances enough to overcome my reluctance to talk to people after a long day at work, but it’s really important to correct any financial charges or fees, and get the lowest plans so I do all the financial negotiations.
PiC loves Craigslist – I hate it. I don’t like browsing or using it. He loves Craigslisting, doesn’t mind dealing with people at all, and looooves looking at cars, specifically, and furniture. So he’s our resident used things buyer. He also really loves a clean house, or needs it more than I need one in comparison to, say, rest, so he’s the vacuum and floors master.
He’s a great sous chef but he hates new recipes while I get bored with making the same food over and over so we try new things together occasionally but oftentimes I just take over the kitchen entirely.
Physical limitations come into play so that affects the division: I’m not hauling all the heaviest stuff upstairs, but I’m the fastest errand runner/grocery shopper and laundry folder ever. And of course I’m the CFO-consultant (ahem, control freak) before any major decisions are made. (Hi, Chariot.)
We split the laundry and the Doggle duties. I really enjoy laundry duty but we have different ideas on when it should be done. He prefers to do less frequent washing but it all comes out to the same amount of washing. He catches just about all the Doggle walking, we share the Doggle bathing, but I do almost all the Doggle doctoring. Fair? Sort of. Each to their own strengths on that point – it’s because Doggle pulls like he’s in the freaking Iditarod much of the time and that’s rough. Doesn’t mean I don’t do it, just that I do it less often.
At the end of the day, I can’t say that we don’t observe some gender biases. I doubt they are specifically because of our sexes. We weren’t taught to do certain things because we were born male or female, though my parents did decline to teach me how to play a guitar because I was too little to hold one. We tend to play to our strengths and preferences according to our values.
*****
How are chores split in your family?
August 16, 2011
As I raised my fork a last time, scarfing the final bite of my turkey meatball, PiC’s expression registered in my brain.
“Whaff?”
“You didn’t even cut it up!”
I chewed. I swallowed. “Why would I? It’s the last thing I had to eat.”
“It’s huge!”
“…so? Now I’ll only remember the best stuff.”
Ah yes, after nearly (counting on my fingers now … 7? 8? years), I can still horrify my beloved future spouse with my eating habits.
Actually, the fact that I engulfed half a “huge” turkey meatball in a bite was less weird to him than the fact that I saved an entire meatball out of my bowl of pasta, brussels sprouts, and cucumber salad. But it’s what I always do. At least, it’s what I always do when staring down a food I don’t enjoy.
We all know brussels sprouts have to be done right and they were verily not done right that night. Facing still-bitter brussels sprouts, I immediately reverted to my nine-year-old self’s reliable strategy: choke down all the bad stuff first, paired with the good stuff in small amounts, save some thing really good for last to eliminate the horrid flavors to save the meal by finishing off with the best flavors again. No bad aftertaste for me!
Plus, I don’t know about your parents but the more you whined about the gross stuff, the more you risked annoying them so you shut up and you ate it. None of that napkin business, either, Eagle Eyes would give you a few dozen reasons not to sit for a week. At least that’s what I assume, never having been bold enough to try it.
I got to thinking. Didn’t he know that was normal?
If memory serves, that’s always been par for the course. If I had to do something I didn’t want to do and had the choice between Now vs. Later, I’d want to do it now so I could have all of later to myself.
If I came home from school with homework, my desk lamp flipped on and the homework was laid out to be done first … well, because I was a nerd and actually thought it was fun at first. When the shiny wore off and it was just work versus playing with the dogs or reading, I did the work first so that I could play ALL NIGHT. Never mind that I might actually go to bed in half an hour if the homework took too long, I would still work first, play after. Play after always felt more fun. It wasn’t tainted by the foreboding of stuff to do later.
As a teen, I came home on Fridays to clean my room and did the laundry. Why? Because if I did all the chores on Friday, then I had the whole weekend to do absolutely nothing I didn’t want to do. And it didn’t matter that something could come up. It would just be a blip on the radar of all that free time. Weekends were great because at least I could guarantee it wouldn’t be interrupted by anything silly like something I knew I could have done the day before.
This extended to how I felt about Things: given a cache of candy, I’d hoard it for later. It was insurance that Later, I would have treats. Same with money: everything went into a piggybank. When I had bills, I paid them and saved everything else. I couldn’t think of anything more sweet than having that cash for later, because that was security. Whatever Later was, it was better.
Time off, oh yes, I definitely hoarded paid time off. When I left one job, I had something like 350 hours of vacation time. I loved that big squeezeable number that meant if anything happened, I could take all the time off I needed to deal with it.
When I discovered Fatwallet and PF blogs in the early 2000s, it was like nerd nirvana, y’all. Savings Valhalla. So. Many. Ways. To. Save! Even now, I daydream about making six figures mostly to play-budget how much I can save.
Now, I realize this might sound insane. But this is precisely the mechanism that made it possible to do what I did for those 10 years. It’s like I was engineered to be thrilled to pay off debt (that wasn’t even mine) because “later, I’ll be happier when I’m done.” I was so focused on the outcome of “later” that the Now wasn’t an issue. The only conflict was in that the paying off debt part meant I couldn’t save, but that eventually resolved itself when I worked a (few) thousand hours of overtime to pay everything and then start saving.
*****
These days, the idea that Now Matters has sunk in.
Balance is still fairly foreign to my vocabulary, but I’m liking the idea. I think PiC has a lot to do with that because he’s very much the opposite. He enjoys the present and prefers to have his goodies now rather than later; it’s weird to me to keep running out of his favorites. He enjoys sharing good times and good foods with me and family now rather than solely focusing on the future, and this has distracted me from my intense focus more frequently. We’re finding ways to meet closer to the middle.
I spend a lot of time Now taking care of it Later, but it lies in the background more than ever before. I still love saving the best for last, still hoarding my Kit Kats but now I actually enjoy one when the craving strikes instead of pretending they don’t exist.
…. but I always refuse to eat the last one until there are more. Because I’m still a saver/hoarder at heart. 😉
Can anyone relate to this? Or am I also the circus freak among my PF friends?
{————Carnivals————}
My thanks …..
to Nelson at Financial Uproar for hosting this week’s Carnival of Personal Finance and for including my post An Annual Evaluation, Belatedly. Be sure to submit to next week’s Carnival.