Sock I(kea)t To Me

by

Big deep breath.

In.

Out.

And repeat.

It will be ok.

The store will not eat me.

It may suck up all my prudent reserve though, which I have sat and figured and re-figured out how much I can afford to spend at the Norwegian/Scandinavian, what is it anyhow, super store, in Emeryville.

The last time I went there it was for my studio in Nob Hill, many moons back, just after, yes that is correct, I came back from a nanny gig at Burning Man.

I am apparently all about the moving directly after I get back from Burning Man, I have done it three times now?  Maybe four.

I am, fingers crossed, done with the moving.

I am getting up early and going with my friend after she drops her daughter off at school.  I looked at a catalog today at work, a quick half day, and by the time 1 p.m. had rolled around I was ready with my list.

One bed frame.

One mattress.

Two side tables.

One “kitchen” table/desk.

Sheets, duvet, duvet covers, pillows, throw rug, can opener, dish strainer and mat, pictures ledges, frames, a soap dish, a throw blanket and a few other miscellaneous objects.

Maybe a pot for my new orchid.

I also went to the Farmer’s Market in the Castro by Cafe Flore today after I met with John Ater. I rode my bicycle back to the Sunset and my “room-mate” was leaving to pick up her daughter in the same neighborhood I was in and offered a ride to and from the market.

I was down.

Not having to haul groceries along on a bicycle in a messenger bag is a huge treat.

I am not going to say I am aghast at what I spent, but it was more than I would have had I not been with company and just really felt like treating myself well.

I deserve nice food.

And I bought some.

Damn you Frog Hollow fruit sample man.

Not like I don’t love them anyway, but I know what I a getting from them and it is always the nectarines.  I will enjoy a peach and that is what they are known for (their peaches have the highest measured fruit sugars of any peaches in California, probably in the United States), but give me a nectarine.

I like the tang and the lack of fuzz.

It is the end of the stone fruit season and now is the time to get those last-minute fruits.

I was just going to get the nectarines.

Then I was offered a sample of a Warren Pear.

Holy Toledo!

It blew my hair back, it has to be the best tasting pear I have ever had in my life, it tasted like it was dipped in honey and slowly glazed in the sun and soaked to the brim with translucent juices.  And only $4.90 a pound.

Good grief, Charlie Brown.

I bought a fucking five dollar pear.

I am looking at it perched in the kitchen on the plate with the other fruit I scored at the market–organic Golden Delicious, Fire Island Nectarines, and yes!  The first persimmons of the season.

I don’t hardly know where to start.

I also got baby pickling cucumbers, heirloom tomatoes, fresh dill, baby gem lettuces, Easer Egg radishes, and the most beautiful head of cauliflower I have ever seen.

Also a five dollar and change purchase.

The cauliflower!

But damn it was tasty in my dinner salad: 1 baby gem lettuce, 1/2 a Hass avocado, four sliced radishes, with the radish greens chopped up and tossed in, fresh dill, one baby cucumber, a handful of heirloom black cherry tomatoes, an organic carrot, one hard-boiled egg, and some sea salt, Bragg Amino’s, olive oil, and a splash of Gravenstein apple cider vinegar.

I had a nectarine for desert and felt so full and replete and satiated and happy.

I barely had room for my tea.

I was going to go down to the beach and finally take a stroll, but I found it easier to repose back to my little room–I had dinner with my friend and her boyfriend and daughter in the up stairs unit–and clean up my dishes and look over the Ikea online catalog one last time.

I am not going to be able to fit the bed frame and the mattress in the Pathfinder, so I am going to get the same day delivery, add-on $89, and I may even pay to have it assembled.

The dollar signs flashing like warning signs in my brain.

But, I also know that I deserve a nice bed to sleep in and a place to write my words and a chair to sit on, a home.

I am not going nuts.

I have a spending plan.

But I am also not going to cause myself unnecessary stress or anxiety.

“What’s the worst that can happen,” John Ater asked be today as I was re-telling the tried and true “tale” of my financial woes and worries.

“I couch surf,” I said and laughed.

“I start over,” I shook my head, “I know this, I know I am not going to be out in the streets in the gutter, I told myself to simmer the fuck down, the thoughts don’t help.”

Nope they do not.

I am not going to live the next part of my life with holding nice things, like pears and persimmons, or a soft mattress and a nice pillow.

I am not going to live with that kind of mentality.

I am embracing abundance and I believe that I will be allowed to live here, in this home in a manner that does not disregard financial responsibility, but also does not place me in a space of such frugality that I sleep my nights away on a blow up mattress.

Nope.

This is my last night on a blow up mattress.

Tomorrow, the Ikea, the bed, the same day delivery, set it up and let me make it up with new pillows and sheets and a duvet and a throw blanket that is soft and cuddly.

If I blow my entire budget on my bed I will be ok with it.

I deserve it.

And I believe that I am being taken care of.

As long as I take care of myself.

To that end, I also bought myself a bouquet of sweet pansies and my first orchid.

I love flowers in my space.

My space.

Ah.

I like the sound of that.

My space, my home.

My little nest.

By the sea.

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