I’m one of those people that spend money when stressed. The past two weeks at work, this has certainly been the case as I’m struggling with one malfunction after another and will only make tomorrows deadline with less sleep and more hours on task. Of course, the daughter would have a choir performance this week, of course I’ll be going, but it is making the situation all the more challenging.
When stressed I spend and eat and typically both at the same time — eating out. When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I want to escape obligations — I don’t want to labor in the kitchen, I don’t want to think of what to make, I don’t want to clean up after myself. So, I’ll justify eating out when our budget is already stretched thin, and will even support the experience when the daughter calls, from the backseat, “I thought we’ve been eating out too much.”
This response isn’t feeling as comforting as it used to, though. We went out to eat on Sunday and the guilt started piling up before we were seated. The rationalization of having leftovers to take to work eased the tensions, but the meal just wasn’t as nice of an experience as it should have been. Eating out and spending money, in general, is finally becoming unattractive. Instead of longing for meals made by someone else, I’m now wishing for my own wonderful cooking and a kitchen continually stocked and ready for culinary perfection. I long for the wholesome meals that you want to savor and eat again every night of the week. I don’t get those feelings when eating out. Eating out is a convenience, an escape, an experience I’m growing weary of.
I’ve always been partial to eating out, more likely to peak in my wallet than to peak in the pantry. Now, I just want to go home this evening, enjoy a nice concert, and go home and make something filling and simple. I’m tired of spending money, I’m tired of eating out, and I think that exhaustion will finally overpower the tiredness that typically prompts eating out. In further reflection, all I can really say is that it is about time.