I’m in that time of life when people talk about how to plan for their 401K, long term investments, the pros and cons of blue chip stock, percentages, rates, interest, babies.
I know what like half of those words mean. I care about them only so far as they apparently mean that when I’m old I’ll still have some kind of financial stability if I know what I’m doing with them. This includes babies. There are people out there who I just KNOW have factored in their children in terms of “these things better take care of me in my old age”. I mean…well I don’t know that for certain, I just assume. What are the perks otherwise?
But I don’t have that kind of stability. Which therefore makes all the words terrifying.
My Aunt bought me a blanket awhile ago now. It’s the best blanket in the world. It’s what I always imagined as a kid that sleeping in the clouds would feel like, but with outer warmth of inward whiskey. I love it. I love it with a jealousy other people reserve for sports cars and honor student children.
My favorite blanket moments are those when other people aren’t around, because then I don’t feel compelled to share. And when I do feel compelled to share, I fight the impulse and hand them an inferior blanket. When I’m not using it, I hide it in my bedroom.
It lost some fluff yesterday and I experienced an overwhelming wave of sadness as I contemplated the reality that today it would not be as warm as it was yesterday.
At work I fantasize about curling up in it. Falling asleep on the couch and waking up in a cocoon of warmth.
I am an adult and for the first time in my life I have a security blanket. It doesn’t quite take away my lazy procrastinator financial stress, but it does nicely supplement the cold reality of life and my apartment (at a cozy and financially frugal 63 degrees).
When I’m in my blanket and averages and mean income float through my head I don’t get stressed, just sleepier.
I know I need to give it up, but just a few more minutes?
Notes from the Sea 