It’s April, and the days are getting longer, which means more daylight to watch the snow endlessly falling and blowing into knee-high drifts that hamper the necessary task of feeding the birds stupid enough to have returned expecting spring.
Having sided with the cat on the decision to not venture out of the house, I buoyed my spirits with the thought that at least I wouldn’t spend any money today. And that became a sort of challenge as the day wore on.
By ten o’clock I had deleted numerous emails informing me of the latest deals of the century on everything from winter boots to an upgrade offer for the car I purchased a couple of years ago. I chuckled smugly at how easy it was to resist these crass marketing campaigns, and almost felt sorry for the companies that had likely spent a small King’s ransom on the agencies who came up with them.
Of course, all these things I didn’t want or need. But then came the email about my favourite yarn company’s 50 per cent off sale. I ground my teeth and tried not to click through to the images of gloriously coloured skeins begging to be transformed into knitted neck warmers and crocheted dishcloths. Somehow, and I don’t know how, some of those yarns ended up in my online shopping cart and the next thing I know – I likely blacked out or something – they were charged on my credit card and winging their way to my door with a free lollipop enclosed in the package. (That’s why they are my favourite yarn company).
I had blown it and it wasn’t even lunchtime!
As I sulked through the rest of the day, thinking that perhaps the key to an expense free existence was not to go near the computer, I realized that I was trying to achieve an impossible goal.
The computer aside, I would have to spend the day in total darkness, (unless I could gather enough ear-wax from the cat to make a candle).
I’d need to shiver without heat and eat uncooked food, (or I could chop down one of the maples, start a blaze in the firepit – assuming I could excavate it from the snow – and bring down a sparrow or two to roast).
I would have to avoid drinking any water, (unless I could melt some snow that hadn’t been peed on by all the neighbourhood cats, mine included), which might be just as well as I couldn’t go to the bathroom all day, (unless I went outside to compete with the cats).
Wait a minute, this was beginning to take shape – perhaps I could manage not to add any charges to my debit or credit card for twenty-four hours.
But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the meter is running no matter what. Water, electricity, communications, the roof over my head are costing money every minute of the day. I accumulate expenses as I breathe, for all these essentials I think I need to live, and for a lot more that I likely don’t. (Except the yarn).
I have had to conclude, with regret, that it is impossible for me to spend a day on this planet without it costing money. So much for living in a “free” society.
by angela lovell 