After what seemed like hours of my mom showing me how to do it just right, I’ve given up completely. I’ve stopped tucking in the sheet on my bed. Consequences? Once in a while in the middle of the night I have to wake up and straighten it out.
I’ve stopped plotting out exactly how long it takes me to get from my house to work, my house to church, my house to your house. Consequences? I show up late and I show up early.
I no longer follow social guidelines on when it is or is not appropriate to fall asleep. If I am sleepy, I will lay down on your living room floor and snooze. Consequences? There may be drool on your carpet.
I don’t attempt to fill the silences that periodically come when two people who don’t know each other very well attempt to create small talk. Consequences? The other person may feel awkward.
I [usually] don’t laugh at jokes that aren’t funny. I used to feel an obligation to give a slight ha ha. Consequences? Dead silence after the joke and perhaps a dip in the jokester’s ego?
I don’t believe that colors match or don’t match anymore. I haven’t thought about clashing or matching since 2009. Consequences? None that I know of.
These are consequences I don’t regret. There are other consequences to all this too. My time is saved. My energy is well-spent instead of squandered. I allow myself to feel comfortable instead of ill at ease. What has kept me from doing all this long ago?
