the purse saga

My name is Abbey, and I am a shopaholic.

My friends and family know this little fact about me well. It's a part of me that I used to enjoy and indulge. However, currently I am trying a new little technique....self-control. It's been rough, people. I am a born shopper; I crave it, daydream about it, make plans and lists about all the fun things that I am going to purchase. I spend hours out scouring the mall and other various stores and snatching up whatever tickles my fancy. I scurry home with all my newly purchased treasures and take them out of their bags, remove those pesky tags, and lie them out on my bed or couch and just take time to appreciate them for a while. This routine will continue anywhere from two to around a dozen times before I can either convince myself to take things back or rationalize my way into keeping them. Obviously, I have a sickness. Good news: I know I am diseased!

So, I have been working, seriously and intentionally working, on being much more responsible with my finances, being less materialistic, and more focused on the important things in life - which is very easy to do for a short period of time...and when there isn't the sassiest little black GUESS bag you ever did see staring you straight in the face.

I had to go to TJ Maxx to look for a baby gift for a friend - a needed and legitimate purchase. I got approximately 2.5 steps into the store when my eyes fell on a super cute and oh-so-lovely GUESS bag that was perched on a display table. It was calling to me. It wanted me to take it home; I could feel this. I walked over, picked it up, unzipped it, caressed it. I loved it. It loved me. But, I was determined to be good. So, I put it back. And then promptly picked it back up. And then put it down. And then picked it back up and walked away....towards the shoes. I spent the next 30 minutes picking up a few more things: clearance sandals, a candle, a killer pair of shorts, and I did eventually find the baby gift that I needed in the first place. I then spent the next 20 minutes walking around trying to decide what I was going to take home and what I was going to put back and creating a pretty convincing argument for both sides of the question.

I ended up taking it all up to the counter. I'm weak.

The cashier starts to ring up the items, while my stomach is in knots and my conscious is super crazed with guilt. And then the cashier realizes that she forgot to sign in to her terminal, so everything must be re-rung. At this point my conscious starts to win out.

Me: "You know, I don't think I want those shorts after all."

Cashier: "Ok, no problem."

Me: " And the candle can wait, and never mind about the shoes."

Cashier: (funny sideways look) "Okaaay..."

Me: "You know what, forget the purse too. Just the baby blankets. I just want the baby blankets. Just do it quick" (in a near panic to make the correct decision and get out as soon as possible)

Cashier: (now thoroughly annoyed) "Just the blankets." (and now she thinks I am a total lune because I look like I am about to have a panic attack right then and there or maybe just break out in a dead run out to my car).

I did manage to purchase only the blankets and leave everything else in a heap at the register. However, I spent a good portion of the rest of the afternoon in a mental battle with myself over whether or not to go back and grab the super cute and sassy GUESS bag or not, followed up by a session of berating myself for being so superficial and ALL CONSUMED WITH A SILLY LITTLE PURSE.

The story should be done there, but no, that would be too easy. I decided to return the blankets the next day. As I am on my way to the store, I am praying, desperately praying, that the purse will have been snatched up by some other savvy shopper, and I won't even have to deal with it's "come hither and purchase" call to me. But no, that would also be too easy. It was there. All new and shiny and glorious. I had to walk over to it, touch it, unzip it, caress it, hold it, put it on my arm, love it for one more second. And then I snapped. I got completely and totally irritated with myself and my weak character and my superhuman strength shopping genes. I slammed the purse down, walked over to the counter, returned my blankets, and walked straight out of the store without even a glance at the devil purse. Victory! ---at least this time.

Abbey: one
GUESS bag: zilch

I am by no means cured, but I am working on it. I'm a work in progress. It will eventually get easier, right? Or maybe I will get stronger. Or maybe I will just have to stand on a chair in the middle of Macy's and yell, "Bright shiny new stuff, YOU HAVE NO HOLD ON ME." And then, security will escort me out of the store, and I won't have to deal withe the Fossil watches or the GUESS bags, or any other pretty sassy thing that beckons to me.

let time linger

In the last ten years of my life, I can say there have been possibly three times that I have been fully content. It doesn't happen to me often. I know this is a flaw; I am aware.

I have always been impatient; I have always sought instant gratification. I have always been counting down days for something - something better, something more fun, something that was not what I was doing right then, something different. The last decade of my life has been an experience of impatiently pushing for the next best thing, a better time in life, a stronger feeling of contentment and peace. I have spent 10 years yearning for time to pass quickly, wishing to just get through this part and on to the next phase, which surely must be the life that I have been wanting. Or, at the very least, just get through life in general; just get to the end.

But something in me has shifted this last year. I feel a peace and contentment with where I am in my life and what I am doing with my life, which is a new neighborhood for me. And now I am suddenly aware of my life moving forward at a pace that I am not quite comfortable with anymore. I have gone from counting down days and wishing time to move more quickly to holding on to days and savoring the time spent looking forward to something important. I have moments of brief panic when I think about how my life is moving so very quickly. I just know I am going to wake up tomorrow and be 80! Maybe it's the weddings and babies and graduations and relocations and gaining and losing and change, change, change. It all feels like too much at times.

I am feeling the need to be intentional, to savor this time, enjoy this time. I want to work at actually living each day of the next ten years (maybe just a good percentage of days would be more realistic). I want to remember, and I want it to be worth remembering. I need time to linger just a little while longer.

the spider pact

I live in my sister's basement. For the vast majority of the time, this is a grand arrangement. Perhaps it's a bit chilly at times, but that's nothing that a sweatshirt and a space-heater can't remedy. And no, there are no windows, but really, it's Indiana - the sun doesn't shine all that often anyways. And on the plus side, it's private, I have a bathroom of my own, and the niece and nephew think it's super cool to come visit me - usually in 5-10 minute increments, which works out well for everyone since Gage's favorite game is "break Abbey's stuff" when he is down here.

There is one small, little thing that I don't appreciate about the basement, and that would be the creepy arachnids that enjoy a nice cool basement environment too. I don't see them too often; well, honestly, I try not to look for them because there's a pretty darn good chance that I would actually find one. Unnecessary. However, on occasion they invite themselves into my shower, try to skitter across my bedroom floor unnoticed, or even have the audacity to slink down their nasty little webby strings right in front of me. None of these actions are permitted in my basement. I have made a pact with the spiders. It's a little cooperative; they agreed to the pact as well, so I'm pretty sure it's legit and all.

For example, if the Sammy Spider chooses to stay in the corner of the ceiling or nestled up close to the baseboard, he has every right to remain untouched and confident that he will live another day to spin another web. Sammy can even roam about freely as long as he stays clear of certain areas, namely, my line of vision. If he so chooses to enter into the area deemed as "human only - spiders enter at your own risk," the peace pact is instantly rendered null and void. So, if Sammy decides to visit me in the shower, he must be squashed. If Sammy wants to make his presence known and crawl down the wall while I am standing right there, Sammy must have a death wish, and so be it. I have no issue with getting my spider squash on. Plus, I happen to believe there is a serious upside to spider squashing ---

When you smoosh a spider, the spider dies, obviously. Dead spiders leave what I have coined a "squashed spider scent" that all other spiders can sense. They are very scensty creatures and all. "Squashed spider scent" remains in the location where the spider was murdered (he should have followed the rules; the rules are very simple) and serves as a warning to other spiders that if they choose to roam in that region, death is eminent. It's like being a martyr, only they are spider martyr, and they really didn't even need to be a martyr in the first place if they had just stayed put in the corner. On the upside, I think it's quite noble, warning your spider friends through your death scent and all. Ah yes, the noble basement spider, indeed.