Mind Hack Monday – At least I’m not in Borneo
I’m trying to stay positive, to look on the bright side of life, live with gratitude, yaddda, yadda, yadda.
We moved from the Midwest to a quaint neighborhood in NE Philly last Thursday. Since then, my positive attitude is being crushed under 47,000,000 cardboard boxes and the myriad of “necessities” we need to buy that are draining my bank account and my spirit to live.
Every time something annoying happens — like we show up to a basement that flooded during Irene and is now so humid that I can feel mildew growing on my skin when I even step down there — I remind myself that some people don’t even have basements. When I find out what a dehumidifier costs, I remind myself that some people live in a rainforest in Borneo, and their shit’s always soggy. When I find out our new refrigerator wont be delivered for another week, I remind myself of all the times I wished I didn’t have to cook dinner and could just go out to eat.
We really did move to a lovely place. Last night we were saying that it reminds us of a little European village, but everyone speaks English, and instead of going back to a hotel or bed and breakfast we go back to our home with all our stuff. ALL our stuff. . . Jeez, we have a lot of stuff, and I already gave away a small Bornean village worth of stuff before we moved here.
Another thing that is wearing me down is plain and simple bodily exhaustion. This house has four floors counting the basement, and today we have been lugging boxes out of the rainforest below, up forty steps, to the hot but dry attic. Since Friday it has been more of the same. I’m celebrating Labor Day but only ironically. I can’t take a day off either because. . . well, because clutter makes me antsy and this amount of mess just makes me cuh-razy.
So it is back to the salt mines for me and back to reminding myself that I am lucky to have so many beautiful and useful things, like couches and rice makers. Because in the Rainforests of Borneo you can only keep what you can carry in the basket on your head.