I’m not good at delayed gratification. For evidence of this I present Exhibit A: The bag of Trader Joe’s chocolate covered toffee popcorn that I bought to be my little treat every night after work this week. It’s sitting beside me and I’m eating it by the fistful as my reward for doing laundry and writing blog posts. It’s yummy. I’m weak. I like treats. And I like them NOW.
What? So, I like treats for doing things I should be doing anyway. It’s not like I demand three M&Ms every time I poop like SOME people who live in my house.
For the record my husband doesn’t like M&Ms so just relax and stop speculating.
Yes, I know not liking M&Ms is weird. He and lots of other good qualities. Like never eating the last M&Ms.
I have treats on the brain because I’m in the middle of a project at work that requires me to make a series of phone calls that are a little like trying to smile and sound polite while suffering through the worst case of constipation in the history of bungholes. I bribe myself through the calls by promising myself a treat for every 10 calls I accomplish. Usually this treat is Twitter because I apparently have a very low threshold for what constitutes a treat but hey. It’s the middle of the work day. It’s not like I can nip out for a pedicure. And if I could, I’d smear it putting on heavy socks and boots because it so freaking cold.
A couple of years ago I survived a spring and summer that included me spearheading four major events in five months. My treat for that was buying myself dresses after each one. That was kind of a mixed result because I can’t wear any of the dresses without remembering the exhausting whirl of volunteer travel arrangements, meeting schedules and speaking agendas. But I look cute so it’s worth it.
The next few months at work are going to suck. The work is going to be heavy on detail, low on gratification, and high on deadlines. I am going to need lots and lots of treats. Normally, I would go for small treats on a compressed schedule, like a candy bar every afternoon or a new lipstick every payday. Except that my butt has reached it’s candy capacity from all the toffee-chocolate-popcorn action and I don’t actually wear lipstick, I just own them and store them in a large box by my dressing table waiting for the day when my son refuses to let me kiss him in public anymore. Once I’m not in danger of leaving lipstick on little cheeks, I’ll wear it again.
So for this stretch’o'stress I’m going to try delayed gratification. I’m going for the big score: I want an iPad.
I don’t actually know what I would use an iPad for, really, but I’m an Apple user and there’s apparently an ordinance requiring us all to lust after everything Steve Jobs ever sold. I know it would be a groovy ereader and I could maybe play Angry Birds on a bigger screen and perhaps it would take my blogging to a new level. The possibilities seem endless.
I have opened a special savings account called the Mommy’s Special Treat fund. I usually give myself an allowance of about $100 per week for incidentals and fun stuff. My strategy is to deny myself fun stuff and stick the money I save into the Treat Fund and eventually it will be enough for an iPad. This may mean that I have to break into dentist’s offices to snatch old copies of US Weekly since I won’t be buying it for myself but it’ll be worth it when I can read it on my iPad. Right? RIGHT? Because Kody Brown and his family just moved to Nevada and it’s going to suck not buying magazines to keep up with their wacky polygamous antics. So someone needs to tell me that Kody’s hair will be all douche-tastic on whatever pop culture app I can get for an iPad. I can hardly wait!
But wait, I must. So far I have about $40 saved. Which is less than a tenth of the cost of an iPad. Which is a little discouraging. And makes me want a treat jut for being virtuous enough to save $40.
Yeah. This could be a struggle. Maybe I need to treat myself with some M&Ms. Just to keep myself going.