I make things and clean up. I clean up what other people mess up. It’s tiring.
Sean gets things. It’s got to be a similar sort of futility, to be bringing home, oh, milk every week. Didn’t I just buy milk? he is heard to say. We’re out already? Really? Yes, I say. Already.
Our food budget is high, I think. It averages out to something like $80 per person, per month. I feel like that’s high. I feel like I should be able to get it down to $70, or even $50. $50! Wow. Imagine that.
But that means I have to make more things. Even more things. And it’s not the making as much as the cleaning-after-the-making that is wearing me down, man.
My usual response to this feeling is to get rid of stuff. Because if it isn’t a source of good it’s a source of pain, and I’m anti-pain. Especially stuff-related pain. I think a clearing of the house is in order.