Relocating.

It’s beginning to look like I will be moving back home, and sooner than I had expected!  Our projected move date is October 5.  Wow.  There has been a pull for me to be closer to my family for some time now.  And though R’s family is here, he’s willing to give it a shot. 

Three years ago, when I moved to the Northwest, I was seeking a life-experience.  My biggest fear was that I would find myself stuck in the same place for the rest or my life, never doing anything, or being anything.  And so, I quit my comfortable job, stuffed my car with all the books, photos, and journals that would fit, sold the rest of my belongings, and started driving.  Several weeks before, my mom had accompanied me out here to find an apartment, so at least I would have somewhere to lay my head when I arrived. 

 

I remember that first day I arrived.  Once I had my hands on the key to my new place, I excitedly rushed in the front door.  The place was perfect for me; a small, 1940’s one-bedroom apartment.  Hardwood floors, vintage details, and a front and back door that both led out to lush courtyards.  After driving for two days, all I really wanted to do was take a shower.  And that was my first realization that, in my hustle to get rid of anything that can be replaced, I got rid of some “necessities.”  Like a towel.  And shower curtain. 

 

Fast-forward several years, and arrive at today, as I’m preparing to move back.  Once again, I am racing through the house, gathering things to get rid of to make the move a little easier.  On many occasions, I have made a valiant effort to ”de-clutter.”  And I think I did a very good job of getting rid of everything that I didn’t need when I moved up here to begin with.  But the problem is, it doesn’t last.  I cannot seem to sustain my minimalist ambitions.  My inability to keep clutter at bay is evidenced by the fact that here I am, three years in the future, with a whole bunch of junk. 

 

R and I were discussing our financial preparations, and, remembering my shower curtain predicament, I suggested we carve out a “replacement” budget, which we can use to buy the items that we get rid of for the sake of the move.  At which point, he completely altered the way I’ve been thinking of, and have always thought of moving. 

 

“I think it is a mistake to think that we are getting rid of all of this stuff, and we will replace it with newer and better stuff once we arrive at point B.  It is more like we are reducing our possesions in order to live a less-cluttered, more minimalistic lifestyle.”

 

And it occurred to me that every single time I have ever moved, I have viewed it as an opportunity to get new “stuff.”  And I gradually accumulate more and more “stuff” until it is time to get new “stuff” again the next time I move. 

 

So we’re getting rid of a bunch of “stuff,” a large portion of which has been collecting dust in the basement for the past 2 years we have been co-habitating.  I mean, literally, untouched.  We’re taking to the pages of Craigslist, and half.com to try and purge our home of all of the crap we’ve gathered.  With any luck, we’ll be able to fund a portion of the move with the profits from the “stuff.”

 

And I’m going to try really, really hard not to replace it all. 

 

Link-End

1.  Here’s an interesting article about a company that has mandatory money-management sessions for all employees. 

Excerpt from the article:

“We want to help people exist in this world,” Markle explains. He says workers who are struggling with money issues will invariably bring that heavy mental burden to work with them, and that can impact their motivation and ultimately the work they do.

 

My employer brought up the idea of a voluntary money-management class, and it was offered by the company that manages our 401k.  They eventually decided it might be a conflict of interest.  Perhaps that’s true, perhaps not, but I think that businesses that offer their employees financial education oppotunities are truly helping employees become financially self-sustaining. 

http://yourbiz.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/08/19/1269572.aspx

2.  I, too, am sold on the cash thing.  Particularly the coin factor mentioned in #3 – R and I will use the coinage we’ve stashed away to help with moving costs.

http://blogs.moneycentral.msn.com/smartspending/archive/2008/08/18/6-reasons-why-i-love-cash.aspx

3.  Okay, two things about this one.  First: wellheeled confesses to making bad scrambled eggs, which inspired me to tell a story about the time my sister tried to cook me breakfast.  Our grandmother always added a splash of milk to make them a little less dry.  Well, darling sis was out of milk, but thought vanilla-flavored coffeemate creamer might be a good substitute.  It wasn’t.  Second: she mentions picking up a tablecloth, candles and placemats.  I have long considered these unnecessary expenses, for a couple of reasons: added effort in getting dinner served, and extra expense, both the purchase and the cleaning/maintenance.  But wellheeled may have changed my mind – perhaps I would enjoy eating in more, if it felt more like eating out.

http://wellheeled.wordpress.com/2008/08/17/le-petit-chef-in-training/

4.  There are times when I am so thankful my brain functions.  This is one of them.

http://masteryourcard.com/blog/2008/08/07/a-really-stupid-money-move/

5.  Kelly at Almost Frugal has some great frugal fun ideas!  Regardless of the fact that I don’t have children, I still have nieces and nephews that might enjoy.  And, if I’m honest, I want to try the ice-cube watercolors idea. 

http://almostfrugal.com/2008/08/14/five-frugal-toys-using-food/

6.  It’s that time of year again, where all the students head back to school.  Here are some tips to save from Broke Grad Student:

http://www.brokegradstudent.com/50-tips-ideas-resources-on-saving-money-for-college-students/

 

 

And then there’s the biking thing.

A while back, I mentioned my recent commute changes.  Most of my trips are made on the bus, but I occasionally manage to self-propel myself to work on a bicycle as well. 

 

R started to get into roadbiking a few years back.  When he was initially researching the purchase of his bike, I balked at the grotesque amount of money that people spend on roadbikes.  I mean, they’re bicycles!  Can’t you buy a bicycle at Target for under $100?  He tried to explain to me that weight is of the essence.  Carbon seatposts are all the rage.  Carbon what?  But, okay, honey, you go ahead and follow your passion, I told him, all the while feeling pretty lucky that we weren’t sharing our money.  When he rolled up on his new (read: used) LeMond, and told me he had paid $750 for it, I tried my hardest to keep the shock from visibly registering on my face. 

 

And I almost managed to maintain that straight face when he pulled on his padded shorts.  Almost.

 

If you are not already familiar with padded cycling shorts, allow me to provide you with a mental illustration.  Imagine a grown man.  Now imagine him wearing a diaper.  Finally, picture skin-tight black spandex pulled over the diaper.  Laughing?  I was.

 

He tried to explain the “necessity” of such garments by telling me the bike seat is too hard to sit on for long periods of time, and the padding makes the ride bearable.  Why doesn’t he just get a more comfortable seat, I wondered?  Apparently, cushier seats are heavier - but the extra weight on your ass doesn’t matter…

 

Anyway, he rode around merrily for many months before he finally convinced me that I, too, needed a bike.  “It’s a great work out!” he enthused, “and so refreshing to get a little exercise before work in the morning.  You’re probably spending more on your car every month than you would need to spend on a bike.   After all, gas is nearing $3 a gallon – you’ll save a lot of money,” he said.  You may be thinking, wow, under $3 a gallon!  So cheap – that must have been a long time ago.  But not really.  Just 16 short months ago.  Either way, at the time, we were all biting our nails down to the nubs in anticipation of $3/gallon gas. 

 

I agreed to spend $400 on a bike.  This still seemed like an enormous amount of money, but I was paying more than $300/month on my car payment, and $150 on insurance.  Not to mention the cost of gas, and other maintenance.  Add to that the “commuter incentive” offered by my employer – ride to work just 14 days a month, and receive an extra $20!  My optimism convinced me that 14 days a month would be cake.  I quickly realized that was not the case.  Turns out 9 miles uphill is not a very enjoyable way to spend a blazing afternoon more than once or twice a week. 

 

Channeling the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, R went about searching the pages of Craigslist for a good bike for my induction into the cycling world.  Within a few days, he had found one that he breathlessly described as perfect for me.  We headed out to a city suburb to take a look, and after a brief test-ride around the neighborhood, we had a deal.  Heading back into town, we talked about the cycling adventures we would go on, the great shape we would be in, and the loads of fun we would have.

 

I wish I could say I fell instantly in love with cycling.  But it was a slow beginning for me.  I had imagined our “adventures” as leisurely rides in the sunshine, the breeze swaying and birds singing.  R, on the other hand, wanted to push himself (and, by default, me) – and he had a better bike to do it on.  So I didn’t really want to ride very often.  And besides, I’m pretty sure my butt-cheeks were getting bruised by the hard plastic seat.  Every once in a while, I was able to convince myselft to ride to work, but I didn’t enjoy it the way many of my co-workers seemed to.  

 

Meanwhile, R’s passion for cycling continued to grow.  He set out to build his very own, high-end bike out of a Fuji frame and various components purchased off Craigslist and Ebay.  I must say, it turned out very well – I was impressed.  So while he began his new relationship with the Fuji, the poor Lemond sat neglected in the cold, dark basement.  Until I volunteered to give it a little exercise.  Turns out, $350 makes a world of difference in the quality of a roadbike.  The ride was so smooth, the seat so comfortable, the handlebar so sturdy – I had never known cycling to be this way!  I enjoyed it so much, I ramped up my bike commuting to once or twice a week.  Still not enough to qualify for the alternative commuting benefit, but I felt great.  It helped, I’m sure, that it had become summer, and the sun shined often, while the rain disappeared. 

 

Here we are, one summer later, and I am again riding to work once or twice a week.  I am not ashamed to confess my lack of dedication to bicycling during the winter months, when the dark and rainy mornings make for a miserable (and not very visible) ride in. 

 

And I have one more confession to make. 

 

How do I survive my 20-mile, round trip, commute?  With padded shorts.

 

Beginner’s Investing…

Every childhood birthday that I can recall, my grandmother  gave me a $50 US Savings Bond.  At the time, I found great disappointment in the lack of a glittery new toy, but I now feel deep appreciation for her foresight.  My dad kept these savings bonds locked away in his safety deposit box for years, until I requested possession of them just a few weeks ago.   Browsing my way through the TreasuryDirect site, I figured my bonds to be worth just under $500.  Not an enormous amount of money, but a decent chunk of cash.  

 

I thought long and hard about the best way to use this money.  Add to my emergency fund?  Deposit to my Roth?  Shopping spree?  It was also becoming clear to me that the stock market is taking a full-on nosedive, and it seemed like it might be a good time to throw some money into the fire.  There were good deals to be had, I was sure.  So I decided to use this money to introduce myself to the investing game.  

 

Currently, my 401k contribution is at 5%, with just one of those percents being matched by my employer.  That money is invested – but I don’t know anything about it.  It’s all done through the investment company, and my participation in the process is limited.  So when I decided to start investing my $500, I had no idea where to start.  R was kind enough to help me set up an account through Charles Schwab – which still sits empty.  He showed me how to view the stock’s history, and look for indicators that the value might be rising.  He pointed me in the direction of Investor’s Business Daily, and suggested I join a simulated stock trading game.  

 

But I still didn’t get it.

 

I signed up for the “fantasy stock market” and perused the pages of Google finance.  And I have no idea what to do with all of that information!  There’s a big search window to “get quotes,” but what am I getting quotes for?  I understand the idea of buying and selling shares, but that represents the entire body of my knowledge on the subject.  How do I figure out what companies I want quotes for? 

 

All of the money advice I see includes the dire need to invest money.  Well, I have the money!  I just don’t know how to do the “invest” part of it.  Do most people use brokers for this sort of thing?  Or are most people just more intuitively capable of choosing where to put their money than I am?

 

So finally, I returned to the Charles Schwab site, and started researching some stocks.  R showed me how to build a custom screener, and I selected a few that interested me.  I googled all of the companies, and dug up all the dirt I could find.  The companies that I still liked after an exhaustive investigation – I must have clicked on three different links for each of them! – I settled on six stocks that I am interested in purchasing.  I headed over to my fantasy stock trading game, and purchased 15 shares of each.  This way, I can continue to hover on the edge of real investing, and just dip my toes in the idea of it.  I’ll watch the stocks for a little while, and see if any give me a heart attack.  Maybe I’ll add some more, maybe I’ll get rid of some.  And then, well, I suppose I’ll dive in – or, more likely, belly flop. 

 

 

Link-End: TGIF

 

Are Printed Magazines Obsolete?

As I waited in line at the grocery store several days ago, my eyes scanned the shelves lined with candies and tabloid magazines.  A headline on the cover of one of the magazines, I believe it was a Woman’s Day, bragged about the 184 Ways to Save Money! that could be found inside.  I internally snorted a bit, and wondered why I would spend money of a magazine telling me how to save money – and besides, I could find all the tips I need on any one of the PF blogs I visit. 

 

It got  me thinking – do people still buy these printed magazines?  I’m sure they do sell some- if their sales flat-lined, I sure hope they would reconsider the monthly publication.  But I certainly don’t buy them.  And I don’t typically subscribe to them.  With so much of the content being digitized, it feels like a blatant waste of money and resources. 

 

It’s not that I dislike magazines.  For a housewarming gift, my mother generously subscribed us to a cooking magazine.  I love to cook, and I so enjoyed paging through the glossy recipes and articles.  When our subscription was nearing the expiration, we received a bill for renewal.  Imagine my surprise at a $30 price tag for 6 issues of the magazine!  A high-quality magazine, sure, but was it really worth $5 an issue?  After much consideration, I took to the web to look for an online version.  After minimal searching, I stumbled upon a goldmine!  While they did not have the full issue in online format, they had a lot.  As in, a lot more than I could possible want, need, or have time to explore.  They had recipes, cooking tips, gadget reviews, even archives – the kind that don’t collect dust on my bookshelf.  So we decided not to renew.  And there have been times when I miss the excitement of seeing a new issue in the mailbox, but I believe the $30 is better spent elsewhere – like on the ingredients to make some of the gourmet dishes within the (digital) pages.

 

There’s another thing that caught my attention on this subject recently.  A few monthly publications have taken to the web to publish a full online version of the magazine, cover to cover.  ReadyMade Magazine, for example, is now publishing a digital editionof their magazine.  It is a cover to cover representation of the entire current issue, fully viewable within your internet browser.  This is even more exciting, due to the nature of the magazine – if you’re not already familiar with ReadyMade, please, please go check it out.  It. is. awesome.

 

And really, these online versions make a lot of sense.  Think about all of the costs associated with a physical copy of a magazine.  I know this exercise is used often when discussing the true cost of food, but I think it applies here as well.  Let’s take ReadyMade for example, just because I love them so much.  A highly talented team of writers, artists, editors, photographers, editorialists, reviewers, etc. spend weeks developing articles and layout.  Much of this is already done digitally, and everything is stored digitally.  Then, the digital issue is sent to a printer, where it is made into, by my best guess, several thousand paper copies.  The current issue has 90 pages, which ends up as about 45 pages making up the inside of the magazine.  That’s a lot of paper.  From there, the magazine must be distributed.  Perhaps the issue is distributed directly from the publishing house, but I am skeptical that the publisher would want to assume all of the responsibility of properly distributing the magazine around the country, as well as bookstores, grocery chains, etc.  To the cost of paper and printing, we can now add distribution – whether that is reached in terms of postage or fuel, it’s not cheap.  And when the magazine finally reaches the home of the subscriber, it is (hopefully) perused, then stored on a bookshelf or thrown away.  Either adding clutter or waste. 

 

Many will say they keep back issues of favorite publications for reference – and I think that’s great.  I frequently return to old magazines, cookbooks, and reference materials when I’m looking for something specific.  But I eventually run out of space, and I tire of staring at the dusty spines of long forgotten publications, and my shelves are purged of material that’s no longer useful. 

 

There is an Archive button in the ReadyMade digital publication, but I can’t seem to view archives with it.  Glitch?  By design?  Not sure.  I also wonder if the archives are available only to digital subscribers.  In any case, I will continue to check back every couple of months for the new issue.  And I think we will see more and more monthly publications taking a similar leap into the 21st century.  As their distribution costs rise, their subscribers will be less able to pay for what is considered, by most, as a non-necessity.

 

 

 

Brown-Bag Bothers

When I started with a previous employer, I quickly got into the habit of bringing my lunches.  We were given only 30 minutes for a lunch break, and the building was situated in an area with few nearby restaurants – particularly quick ones.  I would enjoy my lunch in the breakroom, nose buried in a book, and enjoy myself for a half-hour.  At the time, I was low on the totem pole, and few people would feel the need to discuss work-related issues while I ate.

 

My brown-bagging has continued, and I still bring a daily lunch into work with me.  It is a rare occasion that I eat out.  This, as many other PF bloggers have pointed out, saves a boat-load of money.  But I’ve run into a problem with this.  In my current position, I am a systems administrator.  I deal with servers, security, network, user support, and anything else that plugs in.  There is always something that needs to be fixed.  These days, when I take my lunch into the breakroom and crack open a book, it seems I’m constantly interrupted by a colleague.  I am not anti-social, and I would normally welcome a conversation, but these interruptions are typically work related.  And rarely emergencies.  More likely, the person will see me sitting with my lunch, and they will remember that they’ve been meaning to ask me to fix something.  So they will come over and talk to me about it.

 

If this were to happen occasionally, I might not mind.  But when it happens several times a week, I become a bit frustrated.  It seems that, if I’m lunching in the breakroom, I am an open target for anyone who comes in to refill their water bottle.  I’ve considered taking my lunch outside, to enjoy in the sunshine.  The problem is, there is no outdoor seating, and I work on a very busy, industrial street.  Diesel truck fumes are not the type of flavor I’m seeking in my lunch.  Also, in a climate that fills with rain 9 months out of the year, where would I eat when the sun won’t come out?

 

While I think the position I have contributes to the number of interruptions, I am quite sure I am not the only frugal luncher who endures this.  My lunch break is a time when I like to take my mind off the job – it’s a break. 

 

How am I handling this?  Not as well as I would like.  For now, I’m following the grin & bear routine.  Occasionally, I’ll walk a mile to the park and have lunch there.  And I’m eating out more often.  For now, I don’t have a very good solution.  I just wanted to vent.

 

Tracking Consumption

When I quit smoking a couple of years ago, my waistline paid a very dear price for the health of my lungs.  The sacrifice it had made seemed noble at first, but I quickly grew tired of hearing seams ripping as the seat of my shrinking jeans began to split.  It was time to do something about it.

 

After several failed attempts at shedding the extra poundage, I began keeping a food journal.  I meticulously recorded the caloric content of each and every morsel of food or beverage that passed my lips.  It was tedious, at times, but it gave me the opportunity to consider what I was eating – both before and after it had been consumed.  There were times when I would cringe as I added up the previous day’s calories, and other times when I would re-consider a tasty pastry in the morning, knowing I would have to write it down. 

 

And did I mention effective?  I lost a total of 30 pounds. 

 

Of course, I don’t attribute all of the lost weight to the food journal – I also began training for a half-marathon (13.1 miles), and was jogging 25 – 30 miles per week.  But I truly believe the food journal helped me to understand my dietary consumption patterns.  It provided insight about which foods gave me energy, and what made me feel bloated.  I was able to pinpoint the days when I drank enough water, versus the times I drank too much alcohol (talk about empty calories!).  It was like a little window into my body that I could use to evaluate what I ate.

 

As I sat in the lunchroom several days ago, I mentally calculated the number of calories in my lunch.  I also had this blog in the back of my mind.  And that’s when I questioned:

 

Why am I not tracking my consumption of other items, the same way I track the consumption of food?

 

A budget is not what I’m talking about.  I do keep a budget, and I record every cent that is spent out of it.  But I’m not necessarily referring to the dollars I spend as a whole.  I am thinking more about what I do with those items once I spend the dollars.  Am I getting my money’s worth?  Are these items worth buying?

 

In an attempt to demonstrate what I’m talking about, allow me to offer a comparison of good consumption, and bad consumption.

 

Good consumption:

More that 2 years ago, I purchased a stainless steel Nissan coffee thermos.  I cannot recall the exact price, but it was something I considered steep.  Around $30, I think.  So why is this good consumption?  Well, my employer does provide coffee of a decent quality – but they brew it so thick that it feels more like swallowing molasses than it does a refreshing wake-up call.  In my defense, I am no sissy when it comes to strong coffee.  R prefers his coffee so strong, that he refuses to fill our 12-cup coffee maker more than half-full – any more water than that, and his coffee is too weak.  I have grown accustomed to drinking it that way as well.

 

So instead of either walking around in a zombie-like state each morning, or buying a cup of coffee every morning and facing the “latte factor,” I began brewing my own, and bringing it to work with me in my state-of-the-art thermos.  On those rare days when we are either out of coffee, or out of time to wait for it to brew, there is a local coffeehouse down the street from my office that offers a $1 fill-up, if you bring your own mug. 

 

Now, some may say I needn’t have a fancy-schmancy Nissan thermos – any old thing would do.  But in my case, that’s simply not true.  I ride the bus in to work, and it takes me a little over an hour, from my front door to my office door.  A quality thermos is needed to keep the coffee piping hot for the duration of the ride.  My coffee craving peaks at various times each morning – I can’t have my thermos allowing the coffee to cool before 10am!  When I’m not riding the bus to work, I’m riding my bike.  The thermos goes in my backpack, with my change of clothes for the day.  So I also need my thermos to seal properly, to prevent leakage. 

 

So my thermos purchase was good consumption – I have saved countless dollars on my morning coffee, simply by purchasing a quality thermos to use for bringing my own. 

 

Bad consumption:

For Christmas last year, I visited my father in the South.  My gift-shopping had all been done well before the holiday, but I received last-minute news that my Aunt, Uncle, and their two sons would be joining us Christmas morning.  Fearing they would feel left out of the merriment as we all opened our gifts to one another, I embarked on a frenzied quest to find something for each of them to open. 

 

There was just enough time to order on Amazon and use the Super-Saver free shipping to get the package there before Christmas Eve.  So I began scouring the pages of jangle.net for something I thought they would like.  Settling on a DVD for one cousin, a book for the other, a fleece jacket for my uncle, and a nice cashmere shawl for my aunt (each item under $10), I made my way to the Amazon checkout.  Three of my items qualified for the Super-Saver shipping, but the shawl was coming from another store, and there were additional shipping & handling charges.  I noticed that shipping was free, if I purchased more than one shawl. 

 

I love the feel of cashmere.  And they had so many nice colors!  Perhaps I should get one for myself, as well?  I would save on shipping.  And there I was, convinced that I, too, should get a cashmere shawl for Christmas.  So I tacked another one to my order, and had all of the items shipped to my father’s house.

 

Christmas morning came and went, and we all enjoyed ourselves, and our gifts.  I folded my shawl neatly in my suitcase, and hung it carefully in the coat closet when I returned home.  And it’s been there ever since.  That’s right, I have never actually worn it.  Now, $10 really isn’t all that much money.  And, we can probably reduce that to $7, because I did save a few bucks on shipping.  But it was a wasted $7 that I look back upon with regret. 

 

This brings me back to why I want to track my material consumption.  The cashmere shawl disaster is just one example of frivolous spending gone wrong – I know there are many others.  Perhaps by actively monitoring the usage and usefulness of my purchases, or lack thereof, I will become more conscious of the long-term benefit before forking over the cash.

 

I think I’ll give it a shot, for a while anyway.  Keeping track of what I use might also help me identify things I can get rid of – we’re all looking to reduce the clutter in our lives, right? 

 

The Car Commute Reduction

For the past two years, I had been a reluctant participant of the “lone commuter” population.  Each morning, I bravely endured the clogged arteries of the heart of the West Coast: I-5.  My office is, quite literally, as far from my house as it can be, while still residing in the same city limits.  The actual distance is nothing to complain about, clocking in at just under 10 miles each way.  But the traffic!  There were days when I pulled up to work almost an hour after I left my home.  10 miles.  In an hour.

Add to the above situation a severe case of road rage.  Certainly not the “I’ll kill your dog” kind of road rage, but the “so tired of being cut off, tailgated, honked at, not let over, brake-checked, and getting flipped off that it puts me in a bad mood all day” kind of road rage.  Maybe “rage” is too strong a word. 

 

Extreme Road Irritation – though that almost sounds more like a rash description.

 

So, mix my anything-but-delicate condition with a rapidly rising fuel cost, and voila!  A new “alternative” commuter.  Between my bike and the bus, I manage to get to work every day, while using less than a tank of gas every month. 

 

My employer generously provides a transit pass to all full-time employees.  With this, I can take the bus, the train, or the tram to get myself from point A to point B.  I had dabbled a bit in the bus-riding routine, but could never fully commit.  Until keeping my car feuled began to hungrily swallow nearly a third of my budget.  It was about that time that I walked my lazy bum down to the nearest bus stop.  Turns out, one bus will take me all the way from my neighborhood, through downtown, and out on the other side, where I work.  The unfortunate part is that it takes an extra half-hour to get there.  Each way.  Which, I confess, initially dampened my enthusiasm for public transportation.  But when I finally gave it a shot – it was as if a whole new world had been opened up to me.  I finally had a few moments to myself to enjoy a good book.  There were no veins bulging from my forehead after getting cut off.  I was – relaxed.  Calm.  Actually enjoying myself. 

 

I continued catching the bus, and it’s easily become my preferred way of getting to work.  On Wednesdays, I participate in an event that happens right after work, and I drive my car in order to make it on time.  But I always feel a little bit disappointed to be stepping into my car, instead of onto the bus.  The walk from my house to the bus stop gives me 10 or 15 minutes to enjoy the morning, something I rarely have the opportunity to do if I’m gritting my teeth behind the wheel.  And driving means I won’t get to read the book that I’m dying to finish, that I need to return to the library the next day, and I can’t renew because there’s a hold on it.  As with anything, there are a couple of drawbacks to my new commute.  The additional time investment, as mentioned above, is kind of a bummer.  Following the bus’ schedule can occasionally be irritating – I have to wait for it to show, instead of jumping into my car – especially on days when I’m already running late.  But for me, the pros far outweigh the cons.

 

My goal for the month of June was to limit my car-commute to 2 days per week.  I met that goal, and have continued into July.  As I enter the eighth week, I still enjoy the bus now as much as ever.  Of course, there are a few riders who could probably stand to learn some consideration – like the guy who kept whacking my head with his bulky backpack.  Or the lady sitting beside me who insisted on having her newspaper open full spread – even if that meant half of it was in my lap.  But the majority of other riders are probably just like me – trying to make it home, after a long day at work, and saving themselves a few bucks. 

 

So next time the guy next to me has his music turned up so loud that I feel like I’m stagefront at a rap concert, or the lady across the aisle is screaming into her cellphone, I will just look at the bright side: at least they didn’t cut me off.

 

Link-End