Why Doing One More Thing is a Recipe For Disaster
I often do things when I’m really, really tired or really, really in a hurry. Every year come December 31st I promise myself that I won’t do this anymore no matter the temptation. My one more thing is always a recipe for disaster.
I have burnt my hair, chafed my heels (worn the wrong shoes), forgotten the keys to my office, gone to work with two different shoes (yes this happened), lost phones, left notebooks, just to name some of the consequences.
Two weeks ago as I was leaving work after a grueling eleven-hour day I developed a craving for cherries. Although there is a grocery store down the block from my office, I couldn’t fathom spending $8.99 for a lb of cherries. Had logic prevailed upon me I would have recalled that I treat myself to a $4 coffee most days and don’t blink. I will buy a salad or a sandwich when I could easily bring one from home. And on more than one occasion I’ve purchased numerous cosmetic items that I don’t need. So why oh why did I not buy a small amount of the expensive cherries and just go home? Somehow that thought never occurred to me.
Although tired, very, very tired. I took myself, or in this case prayed my car would drive itself to the local farmers market. The market is out of my way and it was also peak rush hour. I knew this was insane but I wanted cherries and I didn’t want to pay full price.
I buy my cherries – $8.99 for two lbs—I’m excited and proud. I’m also preparing myself to be disappointed because cheap cherries can’t possibly be as sweet and juicy as their $8.99 family members.
Once home and more exhausted than ever I grabbed a handful of those cherries, washed them quickly and popped one and then another into my mouth. PERFECT—the sweetness envelops my mouth and tongue jubilantly. Not only are my cherries a shopping success but I’ve gotten a bargain—much like going to Marshall’s or TJ Maxx and finding the dress you saw at an exclusive department store for a third of the price.
And then the sound, a jabbing pain as two teeth close over NOT the juicy succulent flesh of the cherry but the round, hard surfaces of the pit. Within seconds, it is apparent that my bargain cherries are about to cost me way more than $8.99. My tooth crumbles in my mouth. The next 24hours unfold like this — a night of intense pain, a 45minute trip to the dentist, 90 minutes in the dental chair, 45 minutes home and an inability to drink, eat or talk for 6 hours post-dentist. I lose a day of work.
The total cost of the day is yet to be determined.
There are morals to this story but I’m still not clear what ALL of them are. I know that the sort of frugality that presented itself with the cherries is truly absurd and that when exhausted the best destination is home. I also know that doing that one more thing always has consequences but most assuredly I will do it again. Needless to say cherries have taken on a new meaning in my life.