Addicted

We made it.

Many boxes, bruises, trips to and fro later and we are snuggled into our new apartment.

And I was right -- for as much as we sold, trashed, and gave away, in the end we still had a ridiculous mountain of garbage that I refused to bring along with us. It's embarrassing really, when I think about the families that barely have enough food and water to survive, that we have so much excess.

But perhaps this is the beginning of the end of our Americanized style of buying.

The apartment is cozy. Although Uno still prefers to hole away in his own space (the mark of a true teenager, I guess), I can see him in his room from the couch in the living room. When he closes his door, I can still hear him nearby. Our living space is a combination living room, dining corner, and kitchen, so everything is close at hand. Coming from a home that was so big we had rooms I never even went in (again, embarrassing), I am surprised I don't feel cramped.

Instead, I feel happy. Hopeful about the future, released from the financial and emotional strain of our ginormo-home, content with the present. It's a good place to be.

The new place does come with a surprise, however.

The desire to decorate is thick and ever-present. I wasn't expecting this. Mr. Shoes and I have been excellent about our budget for the past month. Unless I'm having a high-stress day, spending money on frivolous things isn't something I spend much time thinking about. I've enjoyed my freedom from the debit card that used to weigh so heavily in my wallet.

But now, with all the fresh excitement of a new place, with the giddiness of having made my $1000 savings goal for the month of April, with all that "I just sold almost everything I own!" cash in my pocket, and with these blank walls and windows just begging for color...

Whew. A brand new challenge has reared its ugly head.

I splurged on a few items with the extra non-budget money we had (woohoo! spending that doesn't cause a ripple in the time-budget continuum!) and realized yet another truth about my spending habits.

Spending a little makes me want to spend a lot.

So while it's nice to have the new shower curtain and the wall art above the bed, it just makes me want new shams and a floor mat for the kitchen and perhaps a lamp in that little space by the couch...

It's unnerving -- how quickly I can turn from save-aholic to shopaholic.

Time to put the lid back on the penny jar.

This girl refuses to let go of the progress we've made so far.

lessons from a house

Moving day, which seemed to be creeping toward us at a turtle's crawl, is now one week away.

Much of the little stuff is taken care of -- clutter trashed, furniture sold, boxes packed. Each night when I go to bed I am caught off-guard by the starkness of the empty room. The only thing left to do is pack up the kitchen, and the unavoidable little things that almost seem to not want to move with us: spare change, those dusty recipes forgotten on the top of the refrigerator, extra batteries at the bottom of a drawer.

A week from today, all those final touches will be made and we will go to bed for the last time in this big box of a house. A week from today, I hope to put to rest many of the angry bees that have buzzed around my brain for the last year.

As happy as I am to be leaving this house, I won't be going without a few lessons:

1. I'm not a big house person. Most nights, Uno sprints upstairs to play video games or watch TV or do whatever it is teenagers do in the privacy of their own worlds. There were nights I only saw him for dinner and to say goodnight. There were nights I fell asleep early and never even said goodnight. Having a gameroom upstairs made it far too easy to spend time apart. In a small house, even when we weren't doing things together, we were still together, and I miss that.
2. Having more space does not eliminate clutter. This really amazed me. One might think that, given 2500 square feet of space, a family of ... oh, I don't know ... THREE PEOPLE would be able to find a spot for all their things and keep their home neat and tidy. This is absolutely not true. You could put one person in a castle and still end up with the appearance of a frat house the morning after a kegger. People: if you can't find anywhere to put all your things and you have a huge house -- you have too much stuff!! I'm willing to bet that even though I sold over half our belongings and trashed endless piles of junk, I still have way more than I need.
3. Vaulted ceilings just mean hard to reach cobwebs.
4. Having a big place to entertain will not magically transform me into the type of person that entertains effortlessly -- or even likes sharing my time with people.
5. Empty bedrooms that used to contain the sound of children playing are an open, festering wound that refuses to heal.

I'm sure the tiny apartment (I have said that I am moving into a cubicle-sized box, right? A cubihouse!) will come with all of its own new lessons. I'm actually looking forward to them. We may be packed together like sardines, but we're choosing this. I like the new us, the growing couple that makes plans instead of frantically reacting to the storms.

This could make the next year of lessons much easier to stomach.

easy come, not-so-easy to let go

Tonight I begin round 5 of cleaning house. This process has been happening in layers, and whether I realized it or not when I began, I certainly started with the easy, pain-free layers before moving into the more personal stuff.

Here's a cheat sheet to the last few weeks in Casa Shoeless:

1. Random stuff. Anything big that we knew couldn't come with, we sold. It's amazing what people will buy on craigslist! 

2. Garage. This was an easy no-brainer. Mostly junk in boxes we haven't touched in years. And a lot -- seriously -- a LOT of Mr. Shoe's macho man rock'em sock'em robot type gear. Needless to say, I cleaned out everything that wasn't in a green Army bag. And guess what's still there?  Yup. Exactly.

3. Library. Not as easy, but fairly painless. I kept all my writing books, a few important books from my childhood, collections of poetry, and of course, everything I own by Neil Gaiman. Anyone that thinks I will part with those items is suffering from some form of dementia.

4. Closet. Okay, I'm not going to lie. It's embarrassing that it was more difficult to say goodbye to my shoes than it was to sell off my old books. But guys, really -- they. are. so. PRETTY. I really can't be blamed for petting them lovingly as they made their way out the door. Some of my favorite tops and dresses were reluctantly tossed aside as well, but the thing that surprised me most was my emotional tie to certain pieces of jewelry. 

We're talking about earrings and necklaces I haven't worn in years (tarnished "I Love Mom" rings and bracelets from my boys), and in some cases, have never worn at all. Like the Tahitian pearls my ex-husband gave me ... they're beautiful and I have a crazy weakness for Tahitian pearls, but they were given with money he didn't have for a marriage I believed in that never really existed. Never worn them, and it's time for them to go. I'm much happier to give them to someone that can wear them ... and even happier to pocket their cash.

One day I'll buy myself a set of pearls with money I have saved, and I will wear those damn things every stinkin' day. Not even kidding. Tennis shoes, jeans, and my gorgeous inky blue-black pearls. Just wait.

Tonight I plan to go through the bathroom. I'll be up to my neatly plucked eyebrows in makeup, hair, and lotions. Our new bathroom has about half the space as the current one, so room must be made! And I have no real problem with this ... unless anyone tries to touch my MAC.

I mean it. Mr. Shoes better keep his hands away from my MAC. I know where he sleeps at night.

goodbye, my lovelies

finding the patterns

Everyone has bad days. You know the type: from the moment you wake up late for work everything seems to be balanced perfectly against you.

This was my Thursday. Call it what you will -- just one of those days, mercury in retrograde, haywire hormones, midlife crisis... but I was in major meltdown mode.

By lunchtime I was thinking about the sweet envelope full of cash waiting for me at home. I've been selling everything that isn't nailed down in preparation for the move into our new deluxe-style cubicle, so I've got a nice little stack of cash. It's been fun watching the money pile up, calling it my new "savings envelope" and putting it away with no temptation to spend. I like having some cushion. You'd think I would have figured this out sometime earlier in life, but eh -- I'm calling it a win that I've figured it out at all.

But Thursday?  Oh no... Thursday was a different monster altogether. I was dreaming of iPads and flat panel HDTV's big enough to eat your face. On Thursday I was ready to spend every last dollar I had put together.

In fact, although I was able to talk myself back off the crazy ledge, I still ended up in a gas station after work, Did I need gas? Nope. Not at all. I stopped to hunt the aisles for a drink I didn't really want and a snack I definitely didn't need.

The six bucks I forked over for a coffee-flavored Monster and bag of Doritos was hardly worth it, but it came from left over grocery money and didn't effect the budget, so I guess that's a good thing. And I did manage to keep myself off amazon.com and away from the Apple store. So my savings envelope has been protected. For now.

But the biggest thing I realized was how intense my need to spend money is when I am super stressed or having a nervous breakdown sort of day. I have triggers that can easily catapult me into a neurotic spendathon of doom. And that's what this year is all about. Finding the patterns, learning the triggers, giving up the spendaholic within so I can stop dreaming about a life well lived, and actually live my dreams.
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a year without

Today my 17 year old and I are going without. Without shoes, that is. We have all the luxuries that middle America brings — an expensive roof over our head, 24/7 access to water, electricity, Internet, you name it. Hell, we can even hop in our gas guzzling Charger and drive the .5 miles to Taco Bell at 3am if we really feel like it.

But today, we’re going without shoes. Uno (the 17-year-old) came up with this plan while perusing his latest shoe desire on the Toms website. He’s currently in his first period class, and I’m wondering when the school will call to tell me of his delinquent behavior. As an adult, I’m slightly less likely to be chastised for my choices. Slightly.

I’ve wanted to start a blog for about a month now, since Mr. Shoes (my darling husband, of course) and I decided to sell (almost) everything we own, and leave our 2500 square foot expensive roof for a much less expensive yet cramped 900 square foot apartment. There are several reasons for the move, but the primary one is simple: save $20,000 in one year.

At 36 years old — God, how is it possible I am closer to 40 than 30… or 20?? Anyway, at 36-freaking-years-old, I have a long history of bad choices and the credit to prove it. Between the two of us, we have virtually no savings to speak of. Mr. Shoes likes to joke that we are always one crisis away from homelessness. Some joke.

So, here we are. Almost 40, bad credit, no savings. It’s time to grow up.

In the next year, many sacrifices will be made. Granted, sacrifice is a relative term. For me, this means no haircuts, no rockin’ awesome hair color, no MAC (how will I LIVE?) and no new shoes. Regardless of how kickass the sale is.

It means I sold 80% of my books and movies, every piece of furniture we won’t absolutely need, and all the knick-knacks I like to fill my space with. It means my sacrifice is different than yours, different than people around the globe. But that’s why this is my blog, not yours.

For a committed shopaholic, this will be an interesting ride.