Gratitude * Sunday
Quote of the Week
“What the world really needs is more love and less paper work.” Pearl Bailey
Sunday Haiku
Tiny green spears seek light to lengthen into slim blades: flavorful chives!
Sunday Musings
We’ve survived January, Baby’s second birthday, and Valentine’s Day. My primrose is trying to blossom and chives are half an inch long already. Time to clean, change, rearrange, blow the dust out, and start again. I’m good at collecting dust, not so good at cleaning.
I’m not bragging. Housecleaning is hard for me; I’m so distractable I’ll start a project and not finish it because another project presents itself. Five minutes in and I’ve forgotten which pile means what and have to start over again.
Paper creates its own dust, so messy. I can throw away irrelevant advertisements, envelopes from bills, prescription information, but how do I organize those scraps of paper on which I captured an excellent quoted phrase or a bit of my own clever wisdom or the name of an author I want to read? I suppose I could scan all those scraps and throw away the paper, but then I’d have a cluttered computer. No winning there.
Then, what do I do with the paper? What needs shredding and what can be recycled as is? What if there is a large VOLUME of paper to deal with? Could I build a house with paper? Learn to make papier mache? Decoupage? A Halloween scarecrow? A trojan horse?
Some paper I want to burn. Memories of hard times; paper traces of bullying; the nearly year-long evidence from the wrongful termination by my last place of employment; the lies told against me by co-workers who viewed me as lesser than (both women raised in affluence, unlike me); all the negative things doctors who never saw me said when I had to apply for disability; paper trails of what I cannot control. I want to burn those papers, watch them burn, burn with them, cry with them as I try to exorcise the hurt put on me by other people. Burn them out of my memory and my nightmares.
Trauma happens in so many ways when people are sensitive. Too much paper is traumatizing. I resent political mailers as I think the money could be better spent elsewhere, and one of those elsewheres would not be TV commercials. I detest mailed Medicare supplemental insurance information as I am already paying 11% of my income for Medicare that doesn’t cover everything. Stop spending money on mailers and spend it on our health care instead so medical expenses don’t chew up the small bit of pocket money seniors have. I’m not going to go into the obscene lack of health care in America in this essay.
I dislike mailers from my Alma Mater for donations. I used to have a bit more fluid capital and I was able to make a very small donation to the University library every year, and I’d like to donate again when I can. The mailers disincline me to do so as they seem to have plenty of money to ask in writing. Repeatedly. Could that money be better spent in another way? The University has a call-a-thon every year asking for money, and they send me a lovely quarterly publication with donation cards inside, so plenty of opportunity. I love my Alma Mater and feel I had an excellent education, but as an older non-traditional student (like twenty years older, a lifetime), I was still unable to rise above the poverty line, while supporting a disabled hubs who never qualified for Social Security assistance and rearing a son. Most of my 20something classmates went on to careers and success. I did what I could with my education and my success includes investing in a home in which to rear a child and then retire.
Some of the weekly store ads at least I can use. When our parrot was with us, the paper was convenient to line the bottom of her cage. Now I peel vegetables onto it for easy clean up. I rarely take advantage of the discounted restaurant coupons as even with a coupon we cannot afford to eat out on our tight budget.
I am most insulted by mailers from financial advisors. I don’t know where they get their information about me, but I have been clearly told I’m too poor to attempt to grow my money.
Bills are a necessary evil. One must pay for what one uses. There’s so much to unpack there: the outer envelope; the information page; the actual bill page; the return envelope; all paper trash, not to mention the implications of paying for water (it falls from the sky! A gift!) or medical services and medicine which could be kept at much more reasonable rates if not for the middleman intrusion of insurance companies. However, if I use online banking, I could create less paper. That puts my banking information at risk because hackers are a$$hats. No win there either.
I reuse envelopes for parsing out word games before they hit the circular. Saves on copier paper. With my own paper printouts, I print on both sides whenever possible. I’ve recently started not saving copies of paid bills because I’m not self-employed, so why? I may be in for a world of hurt if the IRS ever decides they want to audit how low my income is.
I’m not complaining about income in this essay; it’s low, yet we get by in a safe and decent home. Paper is overwhelming me. Time to plan a spring fire. Guaranteed none of my documents are classified.
Color Watch – colorful attractions in my neighborhoods this week – I get so excited at the first white snowdrops blooming. Spring is coming.
Current View – {These are only my opinions about movies and books, but don’t let me stop you from trying these reviewed items yourself; your opinion may differ.} I’m enjoying the documentaries on OPB this week for Black History Month.
Currently Reading – Finished Ghost Towns (2002, fiction) by Betsy Thornton. The author petered out at the end. Not a cliffhanger, but the ending felt like she thought it was time to wrap it up and hurried through a feeble ending.
This week I have been grateful for:
- A decision made by a heart sister to my benefit.
- Settling in with the new doggo. Grandma set down a rule right off the bat: not my dog, not my responsibility.
- Hubs going for a new look and shaving his years old beard. He does it in the middle of the night so it’s like waking up to a stranger.
- Recovering from the freak out of being hacked on the Book of Face.
- The son getting his driving license back so I can send him on errands when I feel puny.
- The ever-constant February threat of snow here in the Pacific Northwest. Just in time for snowdrops blooming.
- Another neighbor improving their fence. That’s three. One more fence to replace.
- Swiffers and dust rags.
- Patience, even though it can take days to get the project done.
- Dreams being dreams, and nightmares just being nightmares.
- Strawberries.
- Water.
Hoping you have a lovely week.
Namaste. Peace. Blessings.
Floral ribbon border by Laurel Burch
Sassy Kas 