Kruger's Farm on Sauvie Island, because it's so much more attractive than this rant
No, not the kid with the van and the AC/DC t-shirt back in high school. Wherever that guy is, he hasn’t bothered me in years.
Budget burnout. Thrift fatigue.
I’ve got it.
The meal planning, the savvy shopping, the eating what we have in the house when I’m hungry for something very different. All this…responsible behavior.
Our break leading up to labor day was supposed to alleviate some of that, I suppose, but I spent that whole break disgusted by the thought of food. I survived on graham crackers and ginger ale. Now we’re back on the budget, and I’m HUNGRY. And it’s not that our $125 a week won’t let me eat enough. If that were true, I’d accept some additional budget room for the fetal food demands.
It’s just that we’ve been at this for a while now, and I’m getting tired of it. Tired of planning the meals days in advance. Tired of saving the receipts. Tired of wanting takeout and cooking anyway.
Kvetch kvetch kvetch.
Welcome to adulthood, Cari.
We’re not just following this budget to see if we can do it. Our real family budget is benefiting greatly from this $50 a week thing, and we have no intention of giving it up. It’s pretty damn vital to our continued fiscal well being that we stick with it.
But ugh. This week I find myself in an antsy, angsty, teenage-style full on resentment phase. The first few weeks of a new budget are easy because there’s still the excitement of the challenge. Now I know we can do it, and so the drudgery has set in. Gotta ride it out.
Meh.
