Thursday, September 21, 2006

Always Broke on Thursdays

I’m always broke on Thursdays. It doesn’t matter when I get money out, or how much it is. When I say broke, I mean that there’s no folding money in my wallet. What it means is that, lunchtime on Thursdays, I have to go to the ATM in the lobby and pay $1.50 for the privilege of taking money out of my account. What is interesting is that I know this, yet I do not take appropriate action to remedy it. Sometimes, when I kiss my wife goodbye in the morning, I’ll beg for what she might have in her purse, but I don’t like to do that – it makes her have to actually have to process information beyond her twilight routine of kissing me goodbye, and it usually means a trip for her to the ATM. I have thought to myself, on Wednesdays, “you should go by the bank on your way home,” only to find myself pulling into the driveway without doing so.
I’m sure that you are wondering why I’m telling you this. There are three reasons that I can think of. First, there are no new episodes of Seinfeld, and some of you may be missing it. Second, this event is prompting me to realize how very habitual I am. I get up, get ready, go to work, work is the same, every day (at least since 2001), eat lunch at the same place, get in my car, and drive straight home 92 days out of 100. I have actually had days off where I get the feeling that I am doing something wrong; truant, as it were. I have become institutionalized. I am like the bear at the zoo, pacing back and forth in a self-stimulating rut that also assures me that I’m not going to be bothered, beyond, of course, those things that invade my routine. I used to think that this was faithfulness; lately, I’m seeing it as fearful. I’ve pulled the lid over the top of the box I’m in.
So, what should I do? Should I just head for Tijuana some afternoon? Nah, it’s like a whole different country down there. I have plenty of things to do. I really need to just get busy and start doing them. I’m hoping that by writing it down, confessional-style, it’ll help prompt me to action. I’ll let you know. And, by the way, this is a rhetorical question. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like the answers most of you would give me, thanks just the same.
Perhaps you don’t have this problem. Perhaps you do, to some extent. Maybe this little exercise might prod you out of a little mire, which would make it worth publishing, which brings us to reason number three.
I felt like I needed to write something. It’s been a few weeks. I suspect I’ll have some more to write about in another week or so.