Confession
This is my confession. I just spent nine bucks on breakfast. No big deal, right? Had I spent nine dollars on a breakfast that included an omlette with home fries and coffee, true, it would be no big deal. Had I walked into breakfast with the mindset that I was going to spend nine smackss, it might be no big deal. Had I made coffee to bring before-hand and then still bought coffee because the waitress innocently asked if I was having it, it would be a big deal. I think she’s trained to do so. Had the two other items been a muffin and a little roll with cheese and ham- something I don’t even eat because I’m a vegetarian, it might be a big deal. And finally, had I been a pretty broke twenty-something about to leave the familial teat (if you will….which you will), it could be a big deal.
This is my confession. I just spent nine dollars on breakfast. And it turns out, it’s a big deal.
So now, as with every other time I wrack myself with the catholic-esque guilt that accompanies such dumb decisions, I resolve to never let it happen again. But, guilt lasts only as long as digestion and when it’s gone, so goes resolve.
Maybe this time, if I put it in writing, I will remember. So, it’s in writing: I resolve not to make such dumb decisions again. This time is the last time, for a long time. Next time I find myself dangerously close to the precipice of regretfullness, I will take steps backward to avoid tumbling in.
Next time, I will ask: How much does it cost?
I won’t ask: What do you recommend?
I will say: No, I won’t have that, thank you. No, It’s just a bit too expensive for me. No, actually, I change my mind, I don’t want a four dollar, two-bite. No, thank you. No, thank you. No, thank you. I don’t even want it. I don’t even need it. No, no, thank you.
Next time, resolve. Next time, strength of purpose. Next time, will be different.
And you out there who feel like me, cut it out. Confess no longer. Maybe together we can build our wills, practice our responses, learn to use and re-use our two letter friend. And maybe, just maybe, we will able one day to say yes without guilt.
Today is not that day. But maybe one-day. This is my confession: I don’t want to confess again.