Weird Wednesday

I'm taking a late breakfast break and posting instead of working! Rebel! Didn't you cut out early yesterday also? Whoops! Don't worry, my tasks are getting completed as they should. I have no worries about being called a slacker. I've been very productive today, and not in the most conventional way. I have already been on an outing and cleaned the pesky driveway. This time it only took me ten minutes with limited precipitation in the last day. I ventured out to get something I needed at a local store and it was another big clearance event! Every store is having clearance events this month. You're not fooling me commerce, I know what you're up to. Cheese and I conversed about it. And I have to say the timing of that was most appropriate. So I got my item and moved on, it was much more expensive that I expected but when you need something, you need it so I just rolled with it. I'm could lament it further as the week and year wear on sure, but if I can ignore it long enough I might forget it outright. It will sit somewhere in the deeper reaches of my memory vault, collecting dust, feeling lonely and disappointed, not knowing when I will go searching for it. Sad and forgotten like so many other memories that get swept away into a closet and left behind. Don't pity it though, it knows what it is, it knows that it will bring no joy when called upon. It knows that when dusted and brushed off when recalled to the forefront it will only bring frustration and anger, be it in a mild form. This is the plight of the lesson memory, the reminder of a misstep. The lesson here is to look before you leap. Each future over-expenditure will cause this memory, this sad, frustrating memory to be trotted out with it's companions to be reviewed and recalled like an unimaginative top ten list of a particular theme. When it is over, their new comrade mistake memory is added to their group and they retreat back into the shadows of history together. As mistakes or lessons accumulate in life these groups grow larger. They don't grow any less morose as time goes on, they find no happiness in their numbers. But nonetheless their numbers swell, taking up more room in the dingy, back closet of the memory bank. As they become more plentiful, they exert more mass on the floor and shelves of that closet, that closet that is lit by a single, naked bulb hanging down from it's wire, depressed in its own right that it has no covering, that no one took the time to dress it up or treat it with care. That it has nothing to hide is it's only virtue, swinging there, simply, working to  share it's light when called upon. Dutiful and proud it performs its task admirably but without thanks or appreciation in that lonely closet. That closet that as alluded to, begins to get heavy over time. Eventually the weight of the mistakes starts to weigh on that spot in the brain. The strain on the shelves and floor of that closet are a burden on the brain, an ache. When this occurs the mistakes have developed into regrets. No longer are they just individual dust covered memories cowering together in the shadows of an abandoned and forgotten world. Now they have been unified by theme and are a flip book of regrets. A turnstile of mistakes. Their size means they aren't as far from consciousness now. Things from everyday life are able to grab them and pull them into awareness, like reaching into a fountain and grabbing the shiniest penny. Hopefully they themselves don't become shiny with use, the veneer of their covering becoming worn and polished from frequent use. To have a shiny regret is a terrible thing that can wear on a person. It can grind someone down, grind them right down until they feel like they're sinking into the ground, each step forward driving deeper and deeper through the concrete until they feel like they can't move at all. They're in so deep that they're stuck without the comprehension of how they got there or how they can get out. There is no going back, only forward and that in itself seems an impossible task. The only way out is to break free of the shackles holding them down, to release the weight pinning them in place. To shed the regrets, to accept the mistakes and cast those memories out. To diffuse their purpose, rob their power, dismiss them outright. Only once their hold on everyday life has been diminished can someone continue, can they push up out of the ground, freed to move forward. 

So to avoid all that hassle, I'm not concerning myself with the spend. It's only money after all, and I have enough at this point. I just won't order pizza this week, which is fine cause I shouldn't anyways. So in the end, I guess I win. Again.....