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tylikYears ago, back when I was an overpaid software professional*, I remember kneeling on the floor in my bedroom, sorting out my dirty clothing. I'm thinking of this right now because it's laundry day for me. Then, I remember looking at the soft, rich colors (this was back when I wore a lot of pretty batiqued and handwoven clothing, rather than the gym grubbies I usually wear now) and reflecting that more than my house, my car, my beautiful kitchen... even more than the wood burning brick oven (and y'all know how much I loved my oven) this pile of dirty laundry made me feel like my life was bountiful. Maybe part of it was because I usually didn't have a lot of clothing growing up. (I usually had two pairs of pants, a few more shirts, one or two bras, usually falling apart, and a handful of pairs of underwear, with holes in them. Not terrible, but kind of scant. I did a bit better once I started earning money babysitting. No, my family wasn't particularly poor.) And then when I was first living on my own, most of the clothes I wore I made -- which wasn't a lot, or particularly nice fabrics, either. (Or that well made, but that's another story.)
But maybe that's not it, maybe it's just because my clothes were so extravagant in that they served little purpose other than being pretty. And they were soft and did little to provide protection, or warmth, most of them. There's something to be said for a world that has room for such things. Though less, perhaps, one where the benefits accrue to so few... Anyhow, today my life feels bountiful in part because the clerk at Trader Joe's was willing to sell me $20 of quarters, which makes it so easy for me to do my laundry. I still haven't gotten around to opening an account with a local bank.... In addition, I have fresh tomatoes, and made myself open face tomato and humus sandwiches on homemade (if not particularly fresh, it was baked Monday) bread. And three different kinds of organic apples. And blueberries. And strawberries. And all the staples that I like to have around in a general sense. Good food, and enough food is also high on my list. More good food, though, as it has been pretty rare that I didn't have enough.
And I love my bed. I'm a chronic insomniac, and also generally busy, but sometimes when I curl up in bed I feel perfectly tired, but nothing hurts and I'm not worrying about whether I'm going to get enough sleep** and I have fuzzy green sheets (or sleek cool white sheets) and soft cotton blankets, which aren't too warm but are reassuringly heavy, three green pillows and two burgundy ones, and a quilt over the top worked with a forty petal rose that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
incoh3rent made for me. I love it. To get substantially better, I think, it would have to be in a loft. Sometimes it is the best thing in the world.
My extravagantly large (at least when measured against my belongings) room. Being able to train until I am fatigued but not pained and absolutely soaked with sweat. The intellectual riches that are available to me.
The next part is a little less straightforward to write. I do not, for the most part, live an extravagant life. Indeed, I have every intention of living within my grad school stipend. What financial freedom I have (which is modest in some ways, though in others, not) often manifests as freedom. There is very little I feel a need to carry with me, because there is very little that can be carried that can not be replaced. I remember being protective of my possessions, I remember having a lot of anxiety bound up in those. I just don't feel that any more, mostly. I don't feel driven to find a better paying job, because even if I get tossed out of school I'll be okay. Sure, not against every possibility, but we don't get that kind of safety. Heck, I can work. I thought I'd lost that once. Sometimes it makes me want to giggle. I almost never have anxiety dreams about balancing my checkbook (I had the dreams for years after the reality had fled) nor do I feel that lurking dread of knowing that if I've forgotten to write down just one thing a check could clear and overdraw my account.
Though I suspect, were I a little brighter, I could have worked out the freedom part without the money. It's not really about tangible security. I'm not ready to be a beggar yet, though. But I really like my life.
* Also underpaid, it depends on one's perspective. But the overpaid is equally true and amuses me more.
** This is really stupid and is no longer a major contributor to my insomnia, but it does still show up.
But maybe that's not it, maybe it's just because my clothes were so extravagant in that they served little purpose other than being pretty. And they were soft and did little to provide protection, or warmth, most of them. There's something to be said for a world that has room for such things. Though less, perhaps, one where the benefits accrue to so few... Anyhow, today my life feels bountiful in part because the clerk at Trader Joe's was willing to sell me $20 of quarters, which makes it so easy for me to do my laundry. I still haven't gotten around to opening an account with a local bank.... In addition, I have fresh tomatoes, and made myself open face tomato and humus sandwiches on homemade (if not particularly fresh, it was baked Monday) bread. And three different kinds of organic apples. And blueberries. And strawberries. And all the staples that I like to have around in a general sense. Good food, and enough food is also high on my list. More good food, though, as it has been pretty rare that I didn't have enough.
And I love my bed. I'm a chronic insomniac, and also generally busy, but sometimes when I curl up in bed I feel perfectly tired, but nothing hurts and I'm not worrying about whether I'm going to get enough sleep** and I have fuzzy green sheets (or sleek cool white sheets) and soft cotton blankets, which aren't too warm but are reassuringly heavy, three green pillows and two burgundy ones, and a quilt over the top worked with a forty petal rose that
incoh3rent made for me. I love it. To get substantially better, I think, it would have to be in a loft. Sometimes it is the best thing in the world. My extravagantly large (at least when measured against my belongings) room. Being able to train until I am fatigued but not pained and absolutely soaked with sweat. The intellectual riches that are available to me.
The next part is a little less straightforward to write. I do not, for the most part, live an extravagant life. Indeed, I have every intention of living within my grad school stipend. What financial freedom I have (which is modest in some ways, though in others, not) often manifests as freedom. There is very little I feel a need to carry with me, because there is very little that can be carried that can not be replaced. I remember being protective of my possessions, I remember having a lot of anxiety bound up in those. I just don't feel that any more, mostly. I don't feel driven to find a better paying job, because even if I get tossed out of school I'll be okay. Sure, not against every possibility, but we don't get that kind of safety. Heck, I can work. I thought I'd lost that once. Sometimes it makes me want to giggle. I almost never have anxiety dreams about balancing my checkbook (I had the dreams for years after the reality had fled) nor do I feel that lurking dread of knowing that if I've forgotten to write down just one thing a check could clear and overdraw my account.
Though I suspect, were I a little brighter, I could have worked out the freedom part without the money. It's not really about tangible security. I'm not ready to be a beggar yet, though. But I really like my life.
* Also underpaid, it depends on one's perspective. But the overpaid is equally true and amuses me more.
** This is really stupid and is no longer a major contributor to my insomnia, but it does still show up.
