Accountability

Being your own boss sounds great in theory, but it's something of a pain, at least when business outside the house slows down. See, as long as I have appointments, students to meet or classes to teach, I thrive - my day molds itself around my chosen schedule, one which has another person or persons involved (which creates a disappointment factor and so immediately makes me accountable). When my calendar has only three days a week with anything written on it, that's when I start to get in trouble.

At first, it's great - usually I need the rest after the Busy Bunny routine, especially when three times out of four I get sick (or, as the Big Lug says, I "allow myself to be sick") almost immediately afterward. So, although I had a few quiet, relaxing times after my schedule ramped up in mid-July, I still slammed into the big wall of empty on the first of November with an allergic reaction that brought on a ten-day bout of bronchitis. Despite this, even the Big Lug was surprised when I voluntarily rested, and he played caretaker far longer than he normally would have because (I think) he was worried that I might be sicker than I told him.

His attitude would be funny except I know that I'm a terrible patient, and a worse self-starter, so after the initial day (sick or not) of movie-watching and popcorn-eating I'm usually running like a maniac from cooking to shopping to distractions of any sort so that I won't have to do anything (especially things I hate, like housework or going to the doctor's). Unfortunately, this almost always means big bucks, spent mostly on things I don't need or don't use - the stack of unopened boxes in the basement stood silent testament to my sordid past of comfort buying until I returned, sold, and gave most of it away during the extravaganza.

So because of my quest, this time - for the first time, really - I couldn't buy things that weren't catch up (empty pantry and freezer), stock up (while I have the money), or need in the next month (clothing, tablecloths for Thanksgiving), so the "resting" went on longer than I'd intended and even ran perilously close to depression. All because I lacked one essential element. Structure.

Not a plan, I want to emphasize that. Plans are easy, and (for me) toxic. Hell, I can come up with a thousand plans, all equally unrealistic because no matter how orderly anyone makes it, life has a habit of getting in the way. And since outline turns to policy and then to dogma at a moment's notice - but life doesn't - thwarted planning is the loony factor in my past.

A structure is as different from a plan as a willow is from an oak. For me, this means a system of checks and balances, of goals and completions, of rewards and consequences - fluid and ever-evolvoing, loose not locked-in - and though this never shows up as an item in my datebook, the pencilled-in names that are there move me to do more during a day, if for no other reason then being able to accomplish so much in a such a short span sets a good example for (and maybe motivates) the teenagers I teach.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but with only empty space on my calendar, I have only empty space in my day. With no anchor, no goal to shoot for (no one to impress?) I am adrift. Yes, I have this crusade, but it's a secret and (honestly) not all-encompassing enough to give me the daily feel of satisfaction I require - I don't just need someone to be accountable to, I need something to be accountable for on practically a moment-by-moment basis, and I've begun to realize that even I can't look for money 24-7.

Wisdom is about understanding your limitations, right? About emphasizing your strengths, yes? So I did what any rational nutcase would do - I made a list, a Bunny-style, generic-yet-specific, heavily-suggested-but-not-rigid roll call of reasons to get up and get moving every day of my life.

In no particular order, and out of love not fear, every day I will:

Do at least one good thing ... for my finances ... for my home ... for my family ... for myself ... and for others.

Already today I've covered self (a long walk, despite the cold), others (picked up trash along the route), and finances (entered the receipts into the checkbook and clipped coupons). I put a hold on a book for the Big Lug on our library's web page, and I'm about to start the turkey chili (all for my family). I don't know what to do about the home yet, but I'll think of something before the day is over, even if it's running a scrub brush around the toilet (hideous but over quickly).

The beauty of this is that I can spend as much or as little time as I'm able on each item, so when I'm busy (making money) I can multitask (dust furniture while calling my mom to tell her I love her) or do just five minutes (plucking my eyebrows), and - directly or obliquely - it will probably impact my goal here anyway (going thrift shopping for me yesterday, I found a 14K and possible diamond pendant for $3.74). No matter how it ends, though, I know how it begins - I will and I must do something in each area, every day. Period. Not open for discussion.

But always open for real life.