should-ing all over myself.

I've been thinking a lot lately about doing what we should vs. doing what we want. Examples:

On the daily, I know that I should use what I have in the house to make dinner, because money doesn't grow on trees, and what I cook will most likely be ten times more healthy than anything I could buy. But then it's 6:30 PM, and I'm starving, and it's been an annoying day, so I want to buy sushi or a cheeseburger or Hawaiian pizza. Again. And I do. Because if you have read this blog, you know that I stress-eat. 

the humble beginnings of edamame salad

I know that I should exercise or go to the gym or something because lately I've seen about twenty videos telling me that if I don't move 30 minutes/1 hour/6 hours a day, I will likely die in about five minutes and nobody will find my body and it will smell awful because I'm unhealthy and full of crap. But then I remember the laundry that's not done and the DVR television shows that have gone unwatched and the grody toenails that are unclipped and half-polished, so I want to go home and have a sedentary self care night. Again. And I do. 

my new abode, which compels me to lie down. often.

I suppose the lesson I'm hearing myself say as I write this is, “Neither of the two options are wrong – you just have to find a balance.” For every one day of SushiPizzaBurgerFest, try three days of cookin' at home with what you've got. For every one night of lazy slothy plucking my own eyebrows obsessively and watching six consecutive episodes of The Golden Girls, try three days of taking a walk around the building at lunch or doing a silly workout in the living room. That way the nagging voice that tells me I'm lazy and ever-widening won't get too loud. And I probably won't die in five minutes. It will more likely be five years, and I could perhaps get some things done in that time, like have sex again and build some shelving in my house. I mean, I could leave a real legacy.

This musing on guilt and what it does to me comes to you on the eve of a trip I'm taking, one I'm thoroughly excited about. I'll be spending four and a half days in beautiful Montreal, right near Parc La Fontaine, one of the loveliest places I think I've ever seen. The agenda, freeform at best, consists of reading books in coffee shops, seeing circus performances, going to the movies, walking a lot, shopping in funky thrift stores, eating fantastic food (French fusion! Bagels! POUTINE!), taking a boat tour of the St. Lawrence River, and sleeping as much as I feasibly can. I'm hoping to report nightly on the sights, the eats, the vibe...

Because I want to.  And I should.