An aversion to ease?
Still learning about less
I wonder all the time.
I wonder what lessons I was to learn by getting “stuck” here.
I wonder when I’ll stop bringing my Head to a Heart Party to quote Jessa Reed.
I have nearly stopped doing things all the time to be “productive” and busy bee-ing myself into worthiness. (aka hyper vigilance) Some days I don’t even do the basics like scoop all the poo from the sandy backyard.
Gasp.
I’ve stopped feeling guilty about not doing the most with my CrockPot for a bunch of dogs who were living in a hole and eating dirty diapers just 2 years ago. I cook when I can afford it and when the stores have chicken feet or beef bone in stock and it’s not always in pueblo Mexico. I skip dinner sometimes for myself, I’m sure the dogs will live with an occasional scrambled egg or nothing. I tell them we’re intermittent fasting. It’s fancier.
It’s not even their ancestral eating pattern, the twice a day. They eat one big pile of rabbit and then hide the rest and ferment it and then digest that for a while and go back to the aged carcass. These dogs of course have sort of gotten into the habit of 2x a day meals but still they hate kibble and for good reason, it’s industrial protein waste and cereals. And hey, habits can be broken. I used to smoke cigarettes and drink wine every single night for 25 years like I was French (I’m not) and I don’t do that anymore so there’s proof you can break a habit.
Mostly it’s easier. And cheaper.
To not chase down a good bottle of Cotes du Rhone and settle for Merlot at a rural grocery store and then try to find the “healthier” $10/pack cigarettes and do all the things that make you not smell like you smoke. I don’t see people smoking in Mexico but they sell LOOSIES (singles) at the tiendas and the workers seem to fuel a 12 hour day with Cola and a smoke. It made sense in the restaurant business. Kick back at the end of it. Nothing better than a crew smoke and bourbon toss back. There’s no reason for me to kick back now. I’m wiping butts and wondering why Nubbs the street border collie has testicles the size of grapefruits all of a sudden. I go to bed at 9.
I’m too lazy to buy furniture because it’s something else to dust and care for and I’m too disinterested to ride a bus for 4 hours to find out that there’s nothing in the next town either. I’m also too lazy to find a good substitute for Wine Time in this feral town where everyone is happy to knock back some foul Bud Light cans or worse. And what would I pour it into? a jelly jar? Sure. If they sold jelly here.
So I just closed the chapter. This isn’t a high culinary, organic experience. it’s way easier to not worry about it.
I don’t color my hair either. Or use makeup that I can’t replace here and I long ago stopped using toxic foundation on my face to “cover up” freckles or lines or whatever the fuck we’re supposed to be pretending we don’t have. Surprise: The less you use, the less you need it. I feel cute enough with lipstick and that’s as cute as I’m gonna get.
I still wear a uniform and I still don’t paint my nails or toes. It’s always been easier and I’ve always been lazy I suppose.
I don’t watch television and I don’t use Twitter/X or FB or TikTok but I do see how easily I fall into a Reels pit on Instagram. Put it down. yes, it’s fun. yes I learn stuff. But it’s like playing the slots. it grabs a hold. Put it down.
I look outside of myself less and less for entertainment, distraction, approval. I rescue the dogs I do because that’s what I’m doing right now and if I can’t catch Nubbs to find out if he has a bacterial issue or torsion on his balls, so be it. I do my best and I’ll sleep just fine. Sometimes feral street dogs don’t want you poking at their nutsack whether or not you give them a sausage first.
It’s obvious that not drinking saves time and is easier but I’m even averse to the “ease” of a washing machine because I know it takes longer, will raise my electric bill, I’ll have to install a drain, and I like the workout for my hands to be honest. Sheets and towels go to a lady down the block. I used to have a guest house and a commercial kitchen in my former life and tons of laundry. Now I’m ladling beef broth for dogs and have 4 dish towels. I can hang them on the line 365 days a year in the desert. Get over the need to be busy. It’s dumb. We need purpose and inspiration but in lieu of that many of us just do stuff. It was grilled in my brain at my first job at 14. The tyrant Burger King manager who used to yell at me all the time to LOOK BUSY, even when we weren’t. I’m still a habitual bar and table wiper in a restaurant. The Lizard Brain is strong.
Ditto having a car. I’d like to USE one occasionally but I don’t want the fishy registration, the shady buying process here, the completely limited inventory, the upkeep, the theft risk, the insurance (which here is optional) and I don’t want to wonder when the one gas station in town will get a delivery of fuel, a common conversation on the community page. Bike not an option on unpaved roads. Motorcycles scare me and scooters in a town with drunks and people who let 8 year olds drive is a pass.
It’s easier. Yes, more convenient to not walk everywhere with sacks of dog food but convenience comes at a price.
Someone asked me the other day if I had friends or family and I said, a couple to the former and no to the latter. “Oh that’s so sad!” she said. And it is sad that the couple decent family members have passed away, the others I don’t miss at all and never did. The friends who don’t resonate? Bygones. And guess what.
It’s EASIER.
When the time comes and I find a few who I connect with on a deeper level, I’ll be delighted to break bread with them. Only if they have a sense of humor, good stories and can cook.
Looking forward to it. But until then, not compromising feels better than being “busy” or “booked” or “social” ever did.