Be Brave Project Day 2: One Phone Call

So here's the dealio: You're feeling a bit stuck, vaguely cornered, and a lot as if your life has to change. So you make a list of the things you need to do, really need to do (as opposed to buy cream cheese or vaccuum that cat's damn hair off of your foyer carpet). Seems as if it should be rather straightforward, but actually it begins to feel like catching fireflies between your palms--the brief riotous flutter of success, but once you've got the thing in its jar, labelled and awaiting your next move. . .it's a bit of a head-scratcher.

So my Be Brave Project Day 2 act was actually the first step of something I've been terrified to move on--getting my finances sorted. In March my friend Maggie recommended her accountant, who she got to know when she was working as a P.I. He'd just recently done some rather neat (and vaguely slippery) number crunching for her to ensure that her numbers looked right to get her a new apartment on the Upper West Side. I like kind, and I like people who aren't too tremendously stymied by drawing within the lines. I also loved the guy's name: like something out of the Sopranos. And do you think those guys had good accountants, or what? Louie Bottabicano. Nice.

So Maggie gives me the guy's name in March, and I sent him an email in April. No reply. Happily took that for an answer, because I really do not want to sort through 8 years of financial crapola, but then tried him again in May. This time he wrote back and said he hadn't received my previous email, but asked for some details and then. . .I froze. Didn't call him back. All I could think of was paperwork and horrible embarrassing discussions of my protracted idiocy--so I behaved more idiotically and just did nothing. He rang, and I didn't ring him back.

Stupid. Embarrassing. And quite, quite lame.

So the upshot of it all is that yesterday, after I came back from the gym--where there's a new scale that not only gave me a higher weight but announced it to the room--I sat down, found my old email from Louie, and called him. . .but only left a message. His machine had a canned message, so I don't know if he sounds as if he wears knit shirts and New Jersey gold, but a girl can dream. I was full of apologies and genuine professions of my intention to follow through this time if he'd call me back. So we shall see if he does.

That sort of gave me a bit of impetus, so I also acted on something else I've been procrastinating, and called the vet to make an appointment for my cat to have her teeth cleaned. Neither interesting nor brave, but anti-procrastinatory. And that's very very good.

I can tell already it's going to be difficult, deciding what is brave and what is actually just something dull or expensive I've been putting off. . .but is it fear that causes procrastination? of course, you put the dull stuff off long enough and then you need to be brave to get things back on track. And expense? Sometimes, for those of us with Scottish blood, spending money is brave. Ah, Celtic heritage--it's all extremely sun-blocky.