Outcomes I: Time

Had you asked me last month if I spent much time shopping, I would have confidently responded in the negative. However, my experience over the past few weeks has shown me otherwise.

Now that my shopping options are limited to resale shops, my shopping habits have changed dramatically. The element of predictable instant gratification has been eliminated. Purchasing one particular item may entail many stops, and finding the item at all is not guaranteed. While this style of shopping may have appealed to me in the leisure of my early twenties, in my early thirties with a walking ten-month-old in tow, it does not.

So, I generally opt not to shop at all. Whereas before I sometimes felt like I spent all of my daughter's waking moments running errands, we now spend expansive afternoons touring the plethora of city parks. Inclement weather sends us to the library or the local museum. The time we have to do these things feels vast.

It makes me wonder, how on earth was I spending so much time "running errands" in the first place? And what were all those errands that felt so compelling and necessary at the time?

I want something!

I went skiing this weekend for the first time in quite a while. The ski boots that I bought used ten years ago have finally gone from bad to painful. It is very tempting to buy a new pair as they are on sale everywhere. I am three weeks into My No-New Year and finally I am faced with a bit of a challenge. Prior to this I was stuck on debating whether or not masking tape qualified as new. Let the search begin!

Run-up to No-New

I made the decision to commit to My No-New Year in mid-December. However, I found it easier to commit to deprivation in the future, leaving a window for preparatory overindulgence. As luck would have it, the masochism start-date of the year was just around the corner: January 1st.

This gave me two weeks to purchase whatever new items I was to have for 2012. A procrastinator at heart, I did nothing out of the ordinary for the first week. During the second week I felt the excitement that comes with a deadline and the urge to gluttony that comes with impending restriction. I anticipated the need for a shopping extravaganza with days of rigorously scheduled stops picking up every last thing.

Instead, I could only think of three things: picture frames, baby presents, and window blinds. I bought the picture frames because I had long meant to cover a wall with family photos and I really wanted the frames to match. I bought the baby presents because although I am happy to receive used items as gifts, I cannot quite bring myself to give them yet. I did not buy the blinds because an ordering snafu kept me from purchasing them before the 1st. That was it.

It was the feeling that I had as I walked out of each store was the most memorable part of that week. I felt a lightness as I bade farewell to the familiar box stores. I felt relief that I would not step foot in one again for twelve months. It was a feeling of freedom, akin to walking out of the classroom on the last day of school.

An affirming glimpse

As I listened to this episode unfold, another layer of my endeavor was illuminated.