Or, Why I Don’t Coupon.
Not too long ago I read that you shouldn’t think of Sunday as the first day of the week. No, when you do that, it’s too easy to begin thinking of all that must be done in the coming days. Which, of course, makes you want to start working on them. Get a head start. Knock a few things off the to-do list. No…much better to think of Sunday as the end of the week, a well-deserved reprieve. Then on Monday, which is now Day One, you can really knuckle down and get started on that to-do list.
I was all set, this morning, in my First-Day-of-the-Week-Let’s-Get-‘Em-Monday attitude. Got myself and Baby up at 6:15, check! Make breakfast, check! See Husband off to work, check! Baby goes down without a peep for first nap, awesome! Make To-Do List! Clean fridge! Take pantry inventory! Check, check, check!
Next on the to-do list: meal plan. Oh, I hate meal plans. I nearly had a honest-to-goodness, haven’t-had-one-of-these-since-Barnett’s-history-class, curl-up-in-the-corner-and-fight-for-breath Panic Attack the last time I tried to do meal plans. It took me hours. Hours. I wish I knew exactly what it is about meal plans that fry my brain so very, very badly. All I can tell you is that there were many tears, and not a little maniacal muttering under my breath, and halfway through the process Jeremy asked me to cut his hair for him, and I couldn’t because I COULD NOT REMEMBER HOW. Brain. Fried.
Today, though–today was the First Day of the Week! I had power! I had skills! I had Pantry Inventory! And I was not only going to make a meal plan, I was going to find coupons, and PRINT THEM MYSELF! With the printer in the basement! Because it is Monday!
It only took me about an hour to go through all our local stores on Southern Savers, find the deals, get the coupon pages up, make sure the coupons actually existed and worked, double check everything because I am notorious for overlooking the obvious, then head to the basement to print them out.
Now, this was a big deal. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen our basement, but if you haven’t, remind me to never, ever show you.*
So I open the door to the basement, balancing my laptop on one hand, and gingerly venture down the stairs. At this point I can only assume that Monday Itself finally woke up and caught on to what I was doing. Maybe Monday lives in the basement. I don’t know. But I should have known something was up when I couldn’t find the printer, at first. And then I forgot that the lights for the room with the printer are actually waaay back by the stairs (weirdo lighting done by the pot-growing previous homeowners.) And once I discern the cord for the printer from the myriad cords surrounding it, I realize that little blinky light means there is no paper in the printer. Now I am muttering to myself. No worries–we have a ton of printer paper. Somewhere…anywhere…OK, maybe Jeremy knows where is it. I send him a slightly panicked e-mail. He says it is somewhere…in the basement…he doesn’t know where. I think maybe I have overlooked it (see above.) So I look again. And again. No paper. I’m done. No more coupons. No more meal plans. We’re just going to eat Little Caesar’s pizza every night and the leftovers for lunch and that’ll only be $35/wk plus tax. Perfect! I come upstairs to find one of the cats eating the insulation from around the basement door, then vomiting it all over the living room. I chase said cat around the main floor until I finally catch her and lock her in the garage until she’s finished. I remember I’ve left the laptop in the basement. I go get it. I look at the clock–it’s time to get the baby up. I get the baby up, I feed him, I get him and myself dressed because even though I have no coupons, I still have a meal plan, and I can still get the things that didn’t have a coupon attached, and the rest we will just do without.
Then I realize the car seat is fifteen miles away, in Jeremy’s car.
Ok. I give up. From now on, Monday is the last day of the week.
*Once, a serviceman came to fix one of our appliances. Because he thought the circuit might be overloaded, he asked to see the breaker box. In the basement.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “It’s in the basement.”
But he was sure, and so I showed him the breaker box, and when we came back upstairs he laughed and said that was like an episode of Hoarders.
He was exaggerating. Mostly.