Skip to main content

To Buy or Not to Buy

I did it...I pulled the trigger on a purchase I've been denying myself for years. I bought a Keurig and I flat out refuse to feel bad about it nor feel guilty for it. My husband made me postpone so much of my wants and desires in my life.

I cannot blame him entirely. I blame myself for working so hard for his approval. I knew it made good economic sense when I wanted to buy one when they first came out but he thought it frivolous. I argued the savings versus buying prepared drinks at Starbucks. He argued that I should give up Starbucks altogether and I tried. Instead I used a donated espresso machine that was tedious and time-consuming and added my own cream and syrup. This was a poor substitute that I eventually abandoned in favor of the convenience and joy of hitting my local Starbucks.

Again, with receipts in hand and numbers crunched, I had proof that it was a good decision for us. He deflected saying we would shop different brands. We looked at the Nespresso at Sur La Table of all places. I was ready to buy although I knew it would be a pricier way to go in the end. I mean look at who carries them, high end stores like Williams Sonoma and such. Again, he says no. Again, I obey.

That was 3 years ago and I'm finally saying enough!I bought myself the Kuerig.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fall

Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart.  Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.

Lashing Out

Fed up. Sick of hearing, "I'm sorry."  Apologies don't erase the pain you inflict on me. You pull my pubic hair. Your nitrile gloves pull the hair from my head. Not once in a while but day in and day out. You turn me in a manner that suits you rather than in a manner that doesn't stress my body. Why won't you use the pad and sheet to turn me as one unit? Instead, you allow my body to twist as you hold me one-handed. How good you are at your job. What part of "my muscles are dying" don't you understand?

On-the-job Sass

I continue getting sass from one particular caregiver. He says, "You need to communicate with us." he continues to completely miss or dismiss the concept of I would if I could . It is part and parcel to having ALS, I am losing my ability to communicate and it is his job to assist me. Part of helping me, like it or not, is to learn my routine and anticipate needs, when possible. He misses the fact that I'm failing more every day and night time is when I'm weakest. It is extremely insensitive and arrogant to expect me to cater to his needs and expectations. Pushing me to repeat words or expound on a simple one word suggestion is physically taxing on my system, adding stress which further depletes me. Cuing is supposed to be caregiver's domain, not the patient's. Here is the situation, I am being changed. In the midst of the action, as seems to be his practice, he is sidelined asking me trivial, meaningless, but energy-sapping questions. Do I want my legs raise...