How Much is Enough / The Delayed Gratification King

I live in Canada, particularly in the part of it where it tends to snow. So the early morning pre-commute routine goes something like this: Get all bundled up, walk out to the car. I open the door, slide my ass into the seat and give my winter boots a rough tap tap like a pissed off Dorothy with malfunctioning shoes. One foot, now slightly less snowy, comes in to push the clutch so I can start the car, pop it in neutral, before I get back out and grab the snow brush from the back seat to clean off the car.

I generally make three passes; one to dust off the snow, one to scrape ice off the windshields, and another to brush off the ice I'd just dislodged. My recent car purchases seem to have fallen prey to the annoying trend of no rear windshield wipers, so that means I need to brush off the entire damn automobile, less I get snow accumulating at the back and obscuring my rear vision.

But I digress, this is the important part: when I'm standing beside the car to start cleaning it off, I always strain my reach just a bit in order to clear off two thirds of the vehicle on my first pass. I mean, yeah, I need to go around to the other side anyways, so I could just do two equally comfortable passes to clean half of the car at a time. Alas, that's not how I roll - I stretch to do more on the first side, so that the second side is easier.

And thus a surprisingly well-entrenched quirk of my personality is illuminated in the cold, dark hours of the morning while I work through a totally banal task: I am a complete sucker for delayed gratification.

I think one of the more interesting manifestations of this is how I tend to play single player video games. Is it an RPG system with levels and skill points I can use to unlock to abilities? Yeah, I'll hover 2-3 levels' worth of upgrades just in case I get to a tough section where I might need some specific skills. Got a new/fun mega gun in an FPS? Start hoarding all that ammo, and *only* use some when I've come across more than I can immediately pick up.

Spoiler alert for the original Half-Life: When I got to the point where you get the alien hornet shooting gun with recharging ammo, that immediately became my default weapon for all encounters. Even when it wasn't ideal, and even when it was obviously not efficient for taking down certain enemies. I had to keep my rocket launcher and rail gun topped up for... You know, whatever might come.

Alas, this whole strategy takes a turn in the final act when you lose your entire inventory and have to start from scratch. All that preciously hoarded ammo immediately disappeared. So I used the basic pistol/SMG through the rest of the game, until about half way through the final boss fight when I was fairly certain that this was, in fact, the final boss. And then I unleashed all manners of hell on that poor bastard, and you're damn straight that I had enough rockets and energy packs to keep going another three rounds. Instead it just went to credits.

Kind of amusing, right? I have a jar of cherries that my mom canned in my fridge. She gave it to me a couple years ago, and I came close to eating them... Until I decided that I should save them for a special occasion. But apparently paying off student loans, owning a dream car, landing a new job, and/or getting out of a bad relationship don't qualify. Instead the cherries are surely tip-toeing past their expiration date while hiding behind the margarine and mayo.

The whole thing suddenly takes a turn away from just a harmless quirk, doesn't it?

For the past three or so years, I've been living in an absolutely terrible hole in the ground. It's technically a basement suite, and most likely the single cheapest independent living accommodations in the city. For $575 per month I have to wear slippers so my soul isn't sucked away through the cold concrete floor, and need to travel through a common area to get to my bathroom under the stairs. During the winter I need two space heaters and a blanket to stay warm at my desk. There's a huge railway tie that makes it difficult to back out of my gravel driveway, since a condo unit went up across the street I've lost about 50% of what precious little direct sunlight navigates its way through my small windows. To get out of my suite I need to go up a narrow set of stairs and out through a door that doesn't latch without the deadbolt. That last part doesn't sound too bad until you reality drop-kicks you in the head with the fact that it's impossible for you to close the door at all if one of your hands is full.

But I mean, hey, it's a space of my own and, more importantly, I'm saving a bundle. It makes all my troubles worth while! That's why I renewed the lease. And why I did it again two times more. Just think of how much I'm saving! Take advantage of it while I can! Tuck those dollars away into the bank!

And I'm working at a good job right now, too. I need to make the most of that fact, and put away as much money as I can - I'm technically a contractor, so I don't have a lot of job security. So I'll skip on taking vacation time, and even if I do take vacation, I'll make sure I still work at least half days. Now's the time to take advantage of this income and low expenses so I can establish some financial security.

Money. Save, save, save. Save now so that later down the road I won't have to worry so much! Now's the time to catch up/get ahead on retirement! I mean, yeah, set aside some each month for travelling and amazing adventures, but don't really do any of those things. I gotta just keep my head down and work hard so I can take advantage of full paychecks, right? If I'm doing that, I may as well invest some of it so it isn't just sitting idle while I'm too busy to actually use it for the reason that I'm saving it in the first place. Don't ever wan't to see that bank account number get smaller.

I wonder if money, too, can tip-toe past an expiration date while hiding behind the margarine and mayo. Maybe instead of worrying about my money's expiration, I should be worrying about my own.

Some of this is no doubt tied to growing up as a sensitive kid in a poor family. I remember shopping at second hand stores before the start of school, and being told that there wouldn't be any milk until pay day, and if I was hungry to look and see if there were any canned beans in the pantry. And I remember my mom crying because she bought a small carton of strawberries on sale. That spontaneous purchase was enough to throw the entire family's budget into chaos that month. Fun times.

I'm not broke, and I don't have a family to feed. But here I am, enduring daily discomfort for the sake of living (un)comfortably below my means and feeding my insatiable bank account. When does enough become enough? Will I know it when I see it, or did I pass that point two years ago? Will I recognize the final boss in time to even use up half of my big-gun ammo? That's a scary question.

The things your mind ponders to fill the empty darkness of a winter's morning as you get ready for your snowy commute.
-Cril