It's amazing what you can do to save a buck, I smugly proclaim, as I enjoy (endure?) the lentil patties (lentil slop?) I have resourcefully concocted from the selection of pantry goods I refer to as the 'armegeddon stash'. On any other occasion, when disappointed by a Mother Hubbard fridge, I would have taken the five minute trot down to Coles, which is conveniently positioned in the not-so- conveniently positioned Birkenhead Point (factory outlet for Marcs, Mimco *drools*, Oroton, Nine West, Cue *sighs* etc) shopping centre. My mother has quite the knack for whipping up a delicious meal out of the most underwhelming ingredients. I have always attributed this to her growing up in a family of seven, as a by-product of the depression era. Well, as we've established, I have my own little micro depression, which on a good day, is not at all making me depressed as such, but rather acutely aware of the 'in vs. out' within my financial forays.
I've found many a way to make-do since the new year clock, and in turn this blog, started ticking. As discussed in my last garble, there's little coming in to the A. E. Ryan account at the moment, so the shortest term solution? Ensure there's little going out.
It starts at breakfast. I have (and I hope the disproportionate self pride that I am feeling resonates throughout these words) GIVEN UP CAFE COFFEE............ (allowing moment for due admiration from reader)...................Yes friends, a girl whose entire mood, day, view of the world, ability to relate, react and respond depended on the intake and quality of caffeine she had each morning, has bid adieu to the morning ritual that is the Cafe Latte. Well, Soy (Bonsoy preferred) Latte to be specific. Of course I insist on having the one variety that costs at least an extra 30c (if you're lucky), 80c (if you're not). So particular and dire was my need for good coffee that when trying out a new cafe, I would loiter about for a good five minutes a) examining the mugs of patrons b) listening to the sounds, or hopefully lack there of, that the milk nozzle made and c) observing peoples reactions as they took their first sip. Indeed, it was an ordeal and it hurts to talk about it. Anyhow, I worked out that if I buy even 6 coffees a week at $3.50 a pop, that's over a grand a year! And that's if I keep Sunday as the holy day of abstinence (pfft..as if). I know where I'd rather put that big G. Yup. Straight to the big St George.
So instead, I have turned to dirty dish-washing water.... I mean instant coffee.....for my morning caffeine fix. I figure I'm killing two birds with this one. I save myself a pretty penny, and, eventually get so disappointed by my Moccona freeze-dried that I opt out of coffee altogether and make the puritan switch to Green Tea. I've always longed to be one of those freaks that actually drinks that bin juice of a morning out of their own accord (probably after their daily meditation, arseholes). Whenever I do the whole faux-zen thing and opt for Green Tea, I pull a face reminiscent of a two year old upon their first shot of medicine (or an 18 year old upon their first shot of tequila, take your pick), fantasise about my absent fatty, creamy latte, say screw the research that coffee increases cellulite, and, like a soldier retuning home from war, scream 'come to mama you decadent soy latte you!' At this point, the Barista usually asks me to leave.
Moving on.
I've also developed a fail proof tactic when faced with the battlefield that is shops. Like many a female, I have an astounding ability to convince myself that I 'need' a new garment, shoe, bag, matching bangle every time I go out. I recall spending one 40 degree New Years day trekking Sydney to find not just any green, but a kermit-the-frog green bangle to wear that night. Cut to midnight, my hands are clapping about in the air, and not one person gave a brass razoo about the bangle. So I've created the 'I've just spotted my stalker ex-boyfriend' tactic to keep me out of those evil shops to start with: 1- call in absurd imagination 2- picture an awkward ex who I simply cannot run into 3-colour the situation, all imagined of course, with some kind of stalkerish past where he'd send black roses and steal my underwear off the clothes line 4- Fuel the repulsion with him having pungent halitosis breath, which would make me projectile vom all over the wedges I would've otherwise been ogling 5- I thus have no choice but to turn my head away from the shop, avoid eye contact at all costs, and keep marching towards my destination as though I was never in the vicinity.
Ok, ok so my dramatic fantasy could be replaced with basic willpower. But if you'd care to refer to my first post and it's explicit detailing of monies owed, you'd see that basic willpower and I have never been properly acquainted. By the way, I thoroughly recommend you try the 'stalker ex boyfriend' method. If for no other reason, people walking past will get a kick out of how paranoid you look. Especially if you're like me and pull reactionay faces to the imaginary haliotosis breath.
There are things that I will not compromise in this plight. I will not deprive myself of food, and certainly not wholesome food. The day that I eat Mee-Goreng noodles every night, is the day that they are actually from a real Armageddon stash (touch wood, never in this life time). I will not deny myself decent skincare supplies. And by this I don't mean microfoliant ocean crystals that are hand picked by Greek goddesses from the Mediterranean waterfalls where Jesus bathed. I just mean good, quality skincare. 10 odd years as an acne sufferer has earned me a right to that luxury. What I will do however, is be discerning. Discern between the previously blurred wanting and needing. Find out how long I can stave off new supplies and get creative, perhaps, with what's in the kitchen and bathroom. Make do, do less. My boyfriend and I had the most glorious day together yesterday. It involved a long walk, a good talk, reduced price sausages and a cheap enough salad. Admittedly I did buy a coffee, but that was my reward for getting through the entire weekend spending as much as I have in fingers and toes. My point is, it is possible to get by on the cheap. Happily. In fact, it's quite satisfying.
What's that...oh...I think I feel willpower tapping me on the shoulder! Perhaps we'll be friends after all.
Oh crap. I just remembered the final batch of lentil patties I had frying on the stove top. They would've been at least 25c each!
No comments:
Post a Comment