(Let's see... moved from West Hartford to Hartford to escape sewage leak because there's not enough bleach in the universe to convince me to ever shower in a tub that held raw sewage... and then from Hartford to Oregon, where our furniture was held hostage by an Evil Giant moving company for over a month meaning that we made friends mostly by being loaned kitchen items, then from temporary place to place with garage... I swear just the sight of cardboard boxes makes me cry right now.)
Anyway, I was doing my taxes and feeling poor and sorry for myself. Being clergy, I never get big refunds. (I always see those commercials of the people discovering they are getting thousands of dollars in tax refunds, and I never, ever do.) And I've noticed a lot of us little guys from all occupations seem to be getting a tough break on our taxes this year, judging from what I see on Facebook.
Yet a good friend of mine who has been dealing with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (which she has a much better name for) has some great advice: Keep your eyes on your own paper.
In other words, don't worry about how you stack up in light of other people and just worry about making sure that your own heart and mind is in the right place.
So I am going to force myself to think happy thoughts...
A) We live in a tiny townhouse, with an amazing view. I had a large house once, and I hated it. The house itself was awesome... but it was so huge and drafty and we only had enough furniture for half the downstairs. That left a lot of creepy empty space. Man, am I glad that I didn't know of True Blood in those days.
B) I inherited my dad's cheap genes, so it doesn't take a lot of cash to make me feel giddily rich. Even just $20 in my wallet in cash does the trick. I'll order my Borgia and take 90 minutes to drink it and feel ever so flush. M lucked out because I'm such a cheap date that a homemade picnic always does the trick with me. Except for the occasional sushi and martini cravings...
C) M is a very funny person to live with. True story... sometimes I get really annoyed with M because I always considered carrots and celery a staple, for a quick mirepoix. But it doesn't matter how many carrots or celery I buy. I'll hear munch-munch-munch sounds from the kitchen, or wake up at 1AM to see a light from the stairs, and I'll head to the kitchen to find M, all guilty-like, with a salad of celery and a vinaigrette. It's his naughty secret. He's a closet celery eater. It means I have to hide the freakin' celery if I want to be sure I'll have some for a dinner dish!
D) We are 10 bike minutes from the marshy regions and the country roads which make for delightful bike riding. It means I can take awesome pictures of rainbows and mountains and wild animals and post them on Facebook and because most of you don't know this town that well, it looks like I'm somewhere totally adventurous and wild.
E) We already own a vacation home. It's the size of a queen size air mattress, and requires staking. We bought it when we started dating, and that little vacation home has given us some of most amazing views I've ever seen in my life. In fact, we are taking the Vacation Home to Yellowstone for our 5th anniversary this year. (Get it? We're going to go see Old Faithful. For our anniversary. Ha ha ha ha.)
|The Vacation Home set up on its first camping trip.|
Yep, that's getting my Vagabond brain back in order. For me, I just have to force myself to remember sometimes that I'm actually exactly where I want to be in life, even if it doesn't look like a traditional life. I wish you all have something to be joyful for in your lives. Get out there and readjust those brains, even if you have to force it. It's good for us!
|One of the views from the Vacation Home. We have to remind our selves that stuff like this is out there, right?|