So the other day, Missy went grocery shopping. She brought home a big pack of fresh strawberries. There’s this funny thing we often go through with these. They’ll sit in the fridge, unopened, not hulled, and slowly go bad. Then, just when I want some, I reach for them, and have to throw them out.
I hate it.
Missy and I talked about it as I was helping her put away the groceries. And we agreed that we’d just cut them up, so they’d be ready to go, whenever we wanted some.
Later that day, I did it. Cutting board, knife, ten minutes of effort.
I’ve been noticing something about what I did, and about being an adult, in general.
I think part of being an adult is recognizing that you can expend effort ahead of time, to rely on yourself later.
I’m super looking forward to having some of those strawberries. I feel damn good knowing they’re going in my belly, not the trash.
And I think a whole lot of things are like that. That there’s joy in the delayed gratification that comes with effort. Not that it’s like some video game achievement, and once you’ve done it, you don’t have to again. There’s dishes stacked up on the kitchen counter that really need my attention. I’m going to get to them today. And when I do, it’s going to be a berry nice feeling.
Maybe I’ll reward myself with a bowl of strawberries and a little whip cream for it.