I've learned that tracking expenses in an Excel spreadsheet makes my OCD flare, making lemonade out of lemons that are about to expire is not for the weary, and my life is not a laboratory experiment that I want to exact rules on.
My food used to emerge pre-prepared from cellophane and go down the hatch in one fell swoop. Now I let the dishes stack up until the last possible moment and towards the end I wind up eating cereal out of Tupperware with a coffee spoon.
It’s a law of motion: As soon as you say out loud –- or worse yet, put in print -– how positive life has been treating you, that tide will surely change.
I don’t go crazy when I need to use an extra paper towel because I know I can get more at the 99¢ Store, but items like face wipes are now conserved like war rations -- rare and cherished treasures.
A whopping 35% of my discretionary spending has been on dog-related necessities since the launch of this challenge, but it’s one thing I truly feel is worth every penny.
At this point, I’m a Picasso sketch of my former self. It’s grim -- I’m basically down to a big nose and a tweaked out left eye. I’m just hoping my family recognizes me when they scoop me up from the airport.
My boyfriend's been a saint. But on this particular shopping excursion, my 99¢ OCD was driving him up a wall -- I could tell, he could tell, we didn’t really need to talk about it.
Even during this first week, I’ve had to suppress some yearning I would have otherwise caved to, but, surprisingly, the act of denial leaves me more energized than the purchase would have.