Penned up demand

I had a shopping excursion this past week, and because of that, some eight months of austerity gave way to me buying something for myself: Pens (photo at right). There’s a bit more to it, of course.

Back in February, I really did stop spending unnecessary money on myself, with my only “splurges” being some treats from the supermarket, but other than that, nothing I avoided buying anything I didn’t need. Prices, especially including for food, rose steadily since last year, and after my trip to Fiji, I decided it would be a good idea to just kind of coast for awhile (food prices have eased somewhat in recent weeks). Technically, I’m still hesitating about buying anything I don’t truly need, but if there was something I really wanted that I could afford, I’d probably (possibly?) go ahead and buy it. My shopping trip actually included something in that category, too.

The pens were the main reason for my shopping excursion. After I moved to Kirikiriroa-Hamilton and started going through boxes, I found a LOT of mechanical pencils that had been Nigel’s, plus some pens. I also had some pens—and a lot of them were dried up, it turned out. This small problem started becoming bigger over the past year or so.

Like a lot of people these days (apparently), I don’t often handwrite, and when I do, it’s often been with a mechanical pencil (so I can edit it easily). However, when I write notes or shopping lists by hand, I prefer pens (no idea why—habit?).

More importantly, there have been several times when I’ve needed to sign a form so I could scan it and email it where it needed to go, the most recent such time being when I needed to sign the FPCA form so that I could vote in the US election. Every time I’ve needed to sign something, I first needed to find a pen—and then search longer for one that wasn’t dried out. I decided that for the first time in many, many years, I needed to buy some pens.

The reason it’s been so very long since I last bought pens is partly because it used to be common for businesses to give pens to customers or potential customers, something that now seems to be as rare as cursive handwriting. Add this change in culture with the fact all pens eventually dry up, and my need to buy pens slowly became urgent.

I chose the box of blue ink ones and a box of black ink ones, because sometimes I need one or the other, and because the boxes with multiple colours had ones I don’t need/use. For example, I already have a couple pens with red ink, probably the only other colour I’ve ever actually needed.

Once I got home, I looked at the pens more closely. The black-ink ones from Bic looked in the photo on the box like the pens that were standard in every New Zealand office I ever worked in—but they pens are now made much more cheaply and are far less robust than the old ones that were ubiquitous in all my workplaces.

The blue pens were—unusual. First the tip of the pen had a teeny, tiny little plastic cover over it (photo at left, in the middle of my palm). Maybe that was to keep the pen from drying out? The pen body also opens up and has a tube-like ink container that looks like it could be replaced or maybe refilled. It reminded me of a fountain pen, and that intrigued me.

I was also surprised by the blue pens’ bilingual packaging. I don’t see that very often, but there were several other products in-store with bilingual packaging. It was a pleasant surprise.

The thing I bought just because I wanted it was a new cookie jar. It was incredibly expensive: $6.

Many years ago, Nigel and I tried several different containers for cookies (which most Kiwis call “biscuits”). We bought a nice glass jar with a metal lid that has a silicon seal, but the opening was too small for our hands to fit inside easily. This reality was arguably a good thing for calorie restriction, but it was nevertheless incredibly annoying. We next used a plastic container that was a bit too big, and the plastic was damaged in storage by contact with some of the spongey sheet stuff that’s usually used underneath small rugs or matts to stop them slipping on a smooth floor. So, in this house, I went back to the jar with the too-small opening.

The new jar is shorter and more squat than what I had, and holds around 2.1 litres, according to the label, so it’s probably roughly equivalent in capacity. The shop had two larger sizes (and two even smaller), but the one I bought is all I need: I usually buy a bag of cookies from the supermarket that wouldn’t fill even half the jar I bought. I’m the only human living in this house, after all, so I don’t need to have a lot of cookies sitting around (and Leo’s not allowed any). A photo of the new and old jars is at right.

I could make a joke about all this extravagance, but the truth is that once I got home, I noticed a tall-ish ceramic casserole pot on my kitchen shelves that I haven’t used for years, and realised I easily could’ve repurposed it to use as a cookie jar: After all, it would’ve been free, and the opening was large enough. A momentary twinge of guilt over spending $6 was replaced by the realisation that I actually prefer clear glass so I can see how many cookies I have left—is it time to get some more?—without having to open the jar to check.

I also realised that I—theoretically—could bake cookies and freeze half of them, partly because the jar might be too small, but mainly because I don’t eat cookies very often. As I’ve said before, I like making things from scratch so that I can control what, exactly, is in the stuff I eat. But considering how seldom I eat cookies, maybe it’s best to buy manufactured ones because of their preservatives?

Most of this post is tongue-in-cheek: I didn’t hesitate to buy the stuff I chose, and while I was in the shop I also checked out possibilities for future projects, so there certainly I certainly did have any existential angst at the time (or since). In fact, I next went to the supermarket and selected stuff without paying much attention to how much I was spending—like the old days, actually.

But it amused me that my first trip to buy something for myself was focused on pens and a cookie jar, and I’ve long thought it was a good idea to make fun of myself before anyone else gets the chance.

While my next purchase(s) may not be quite as restrained, I hope they’re at least half as funny to me. Laughing at myself is kind of a general goal I have. I guess that’s pretty obvious by now.