New year, same old me

Wah wah

We’re having one of those weeks around here where things are not going according to plan. I’m writing this at 5:50 a.m. on Wednesday, just a few short hours before I’m supposed to hit send. Sure, I’ve been thinking about what this newsletter is going to be about for days, but despite my best-laid plans, I haven’t had a chance to actually sit down and, you know, write.

I can blame the universe, but it’s probably just my fault. Too many late nights doing fun things. Too many unexpected childcare issues. My own misguided desire to have the perfect time to write, when things are quiet and I’m not at risk of being distracted or interrupted. But as any parent will tell you, if you put things off until “the perfect time,” it probably won’t get done—or it won’t get done exactly as you originally planned. Sara Mauskopf, CEO of Winnie, a childcare marketplace startup, had a very relatable LinkedIn post last December about how to best prepare for a board presentation. 

Who among us has not mindlessly scrolled social media in a moment of exhaustion after dealing with our kids, knowing full well we should be spending that alone time working on something much more important (or at least doing the dishes)?

I’m in my 40s and have never, ever successfully stuck to a New Year’s resolution, but each December 31, as the clock strikes midnight, I somehow still believe the coming year will be different. THIS YEAR I WILL GET SHIT DONE. In making plans for The Purse 2024, I had the idea to sprinkle my calendar with annoying to-dos (clean out underwear drawer, make doctors appointments, etc.), and share the calendar with you readers in an effort to be like Martha Stewart, whose monthly calendar ran for years in her eponymous magazine and was the stuff of legend. 

The New York Times noted the magazine’s decision to stop publishing Martha’s calendar in 2013 by sharing some of the entries over the years: “‘Deadhead roses and perennials’ read the entry for July 11 last year. ‘Wash all cats,’ said the one for Sept. 7, also last year. And a couple of weeks later, on Sept. 27: ‘Surprise dinner for Alexis's birthday,’”

I don’t have roses to deadhead or cats to wash, but I do have a laundry list of stuff that needs to get done. I consider you readers my accountability buddies, so I thought by sharing my calendar, maybe I would actually accomplish some of the tasks that seem to get stuck in to-do purgatory. And yet, nearly three weeks into the new year, I’ve already fallen off the rails, and only one or two things have gotten done according to my arbitrary schedule.

Last weekend, the action item on my calendar was to sell some old kids clothes on Park Slope Parents classifieds as well as wrap up my year-end financial review. But I got a migraine on Saturday, so the year-end review didn’t get started until Sunday, and of course it took a whole lot longer than I expected it to. The week before, I was supposed to spend some time finding an accountant, but preparing my final presentation for my CUNY program ate up a huge chunk of time, and then I got busy with the move to Substack. A week later, I still don’t have an accountant and I’m getting nervous as tax season fast approaches.

Did I hire an accountant or file the FSA claims? Nope!

As a friend said to me over drinks last weekend, the days are short! You can go into a workday thinking you are going to get all the shit done, but inevitably the hours between when your kids go to school and when you have to pick them up fly by, and even if you’re the most disciplined worker bee around, there will still be to-dos left undone.

I’m mostly okay with that—an endless to-do list is simply a fact of life, and I’m not mad about being busy. (I know that busyness has a bad rap these days, but I genuinely like a full schedule.) My struggle is when I fall into the trap of believing that a new year means a new me and then feeling disappointed when I don’t achieve the ridiculous goals I’ve set for myself. There are the same number of hours in a day on January 1 as there were on December 31. And I’m the same imperfect person who has the best intentions and high expectations. What’s that saying, Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans? The universe has never cared that you have a Google calendar you’re trying to keep up with.

I loved last week’s essay from

Maddie Burton

in her newsletter

Your Five-Year Plan

, where she talks about our overreliance on calendars and to-do apps. 

“Sometimes, this reminder app feels like a very thin membrane separating my mostly-functional existence from encroaching entropy,” she wrote. The piece continues:

“This week, I did a walkthrough of my house with a plumber; he mentioned that homeowners should recaulk their showers and tubs every three to five years.

Instinctively, I pulled out my phone to record this task in my reminder app. January 2027, I tapped with my thumbs. Recaulk bathrooms!!!

No sooner had I punched in the reminder than I experienced what I can only describe as existential backdraft. I’m a responsible person, I thought. When did I stop trusting myself to remember this kind of thing?”

I understand the instinct. At the end of this holiday season, I realized I had an extra roll of wrapping paper that didn’t get used. I have thought many times over the last couple of weeks that I should schedule an email to myself for delivery just before Thanksgiving 2024 as a reminder that I don’t need to buy wrapping paper. But seeing as that unused roll is still sitting out in my bedroom, yet to be put away for the season, there’s just as good a chance it will be there ’til next November sitting right next to the art that I’ve wanted to frame for at least a year. Sigh.

This newsletter was supposed to be about the dumbest thing I spent money on in 2023. (It was a Tucky—which someone on the internet convinced me would revolutionize my wardrobe. I bought a size too small, and it’s impossible to return, so the pink packaging sits in my closet, mocking me. I’m still annoyed I got suckered into wasting $35 on a TikTok trend, but I guess we’re all human.) Instead, it turned into a 1,000-word diatribe about procrastination and to-do lists and failed New Year’s resolutions. And I told myself The Purse wasn’t going to go in this direction this year. Sigh. I’ll try again next week.

@theivoryblondeThis is a game changer. It DOES NOT move. Best thing ever the wannabes dont come close to this product. @Shop Tucky #tuckybelt #tucky

Tiktok failed to load.

Enable 3rd party cookies or use another browser

I do have another New Year’s resolution I’m trying hard to stick to, and that’s not letting my perfectionism get the better of me. The original plan for this newsletter was to use my musings on spending in 2023 as a way to invite you readers to join me for a chat about our most annoying money mistakes from 2023, as well as some of our wins. (Beyond the Tucky, I’m also grumpy about the FSA money I lost in my job transition.) I’ve been excited to try out the Substack chat feature. So let’s do it. We can talk about money mistakes and also New Year’s resolutions. Who’s here for it? I’ll be kicking it off this evening around 8:30 p.m. ET; I think Substack sends out an email when I start the chat, so stayed tuned. (And if its crickets tonight, blame the universe and not the fact that I’m tired and my kid wouldn’t go to bed!)

I’m also dropping here the Google form for our new Home Economics feature. Thank you to all who reached out and expressed interest. If you have specific questions or concerns about the form or the series, please let me know.

And last but not least, welcome to all the new subscribers who have joined since I moved to Substack. And a big thank you to

Laura Fenton

, who included a link to The Purse in her wonderful newsletter Small Living. (It’s one of my favorites!) I’m so glad you all are here!

xx
Lindsey