Ultimately, my entire decision-making process, big or small comes down to one guiding principle. Simplicity. I’ve been thinking about this theory for the past two days or so, but it really hit me tonight. I was watching the dogs play in the sand volleyball pit at Jaycee Park. Just bounding around in the near dark, crounching, pouncing, running, summersaulting. Then I noticed the sand was cold and that’s what made the difference. In that instant I was happy. Because I was present in the moment, noticing details, feeling the cold, feeling the grains swish to the side as I stepped, watching uninhibited joy, feeding from that joy.
And I thought, you know, really that’s what I need. I need to be able to get caught up in more of these little moments, free from thoughts of work or bills or deadlines. I need to strip things down to the bare essentials. I want to buy a bike (with fat tires so I don’t have to worry about any more bent rims) and live close enough to work that I never have to worry about $3/gallon gas or an exhaust system that rusts up every two years. I like having clothes on hangers rather than in a dresser. I like having a mattress resting on the floor. I like shopping at Goodwill for used t-shirts. I miss my old job at Wedgwood with its lower expectations and would gladly return to it if the pay were better. I loved my old room at Ethel straight out of college with my apple crates for furniture and my cheesy nature posters on the walls. Full of stuff that you like enough, put wouldn’t be devasted if you one day instantly lost it all (say in a freak act of nature).
I guess this why I sometimes get frustrated when Mary buys $100 sets of sheets or crazy Pottery Barn knickknacks. Because, suddenly it’s more stuff that you have to care and worry about. Nobody cares if the dogs track mud all over the $15 set of blue Target sheets, but with Ralph Lauren eight million thread count sheets it becomes a mini freakout session. But, of course, this is all very subjective as I will happily drop $100 on another piece of technology. “But, we use it all the time,” I exclaim. Very subjective I suppose.
Really, I shouldn’t complain too much though. The entropy in my life definitely seems to be fading. Maybe it’s just that ever never be truly at peace or satisfied until I own my own cabana on the ocean with a couple of surf boards, a couple of dogs, and a high speed interenet connection in a back room somewhere. And a kayak. And some mountians in the other direction. But that’s it. Really.