Every twelve months we receive a gift in the form of a new year (and a dozen calendar pages to fill). For me, this gift brings a shift in perspective and perception. I see the world (and my waistline) with new eyes.
And I am tempted.
I am tempted to want to change things in big and graphic ways. This often involves great expense, effort and exercise machines, because grandiose change does not come easily. If you're like me, you vow to eat, work, charge, smoke and drink less while you work out, organize, volunteer, recycle and save more.
January comes. We start fast and quit just as fast. When the going gets tough, the resolutions are sent packing. By February, we are left resolutionless, with a life that remains as messy, overweight, disorganized and overspent as it was on Dec. 31.
We're a couple of weeks into the new year and countless resolutions have already been thrown by the wayside, and that's just at my house.
The main reason for resolution failure is resolution overload. We try to do too much - and those TV commercials don't help. People who lose 50 pounds and three pant sizes in two weeks do not live on my planet. There is no magic closet organizer available for any of my closets. If I smoked, I'd never be able to quit cold turkey. The only six pack I'll ever have sits on the top shelf in my fridge. The brand new expansive and expensive exercise machine planted in the middle of my bedroom on Jan. 2 will become nothing more than a coat rack by March 1.
That's the bad news.
The good news is resolution success can be achieved by each of us. Even me.
This year, rather than pick one of my usual and unattainable resolutions, I decided to go out on a resolution limb and start small - with toilet seats.
Toilet seats are a bit unconventional, so I'll explain. I live with four guys: three sons and a husband. As good as they are and as accurate as they try to be, sometimes their aim misses the mark (and I'm not referring to expertise with a gun during deer hunting season).
In a busy household such as mine, toilet seats (and flushing for that matter) can become an issue. After a period of time, certain things just don't come clean (and I'm not talking about my teenagers after a late night Saturday escapade). When scrubbing becomes futile, I resolve to treat the household to new (shiny and white) toilet seats. This may not seem like much, but it is a resolution worth attempting. Plus, because my husband does the actual installation, it is a resolution I can attain. I like to think of it as a resolution partnership - which works for me.
New toilet seats make a minor dent in our long list of needed home improvement projects for the new year. But, I've found success with one resolution boosts your confidence and makes you want to get started on another - and recruit others to do the same. My husband - the great and almighty toilet seat installer - is already on board and ready to resolve again and again during the coming year. He's even willing to expand on his talents and think outside the bathroom. You gotta love that guy.
Next, we've decided to get our boys on the resolution bandwagon. They're attempting to polish their aim, which is a definite step in the right direction. Now, if we could only get them to resolve to flush.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
And I am tempted.
I am tempted to want to change things in big and graphic ways. This often involves great expense, effort and exercise machines, because grandiose change does not come easily. If you're like me, you vow to eat, work, charge, smoke and drink less while you work out, organize, volunteer, recycle and save more.
January comes. We start fast and quit just as fast. When the going gets tough, the resolutions are sent packing. By February, we are left resolutionless, with a life that remains as messy, overweight, disorganized and overspent as it was on Dec. 31.
We're a couple of weeks into the new year and countless resolutions have already been thrown by the wayside, and that's just at my house.
The main reason for resolution failure is resolution overload. We try to do too much - and those TV commercials don't help. People who lose 50 pounds and three pant sizes in two weeks do not live on my planet. There is no magic closet organizer available for any of my closets. If I smoked, I'd never be able to quit cold turkey. The only six pack I'll ever have sits on the top shelf in my fridge. The brand new expansive and expensive exercise machine planted in the middle of my bedroom on Jan. 2 will become nothing more than a coat rack by March 1.
That's the bad news.
The good news is resolution success can be achieved by each of us. Even me.
This year, rather than pick one of my usual and unattainable resolutions, I decided to go out on a resolution limb and start small - with toilet seats.
Toilet seats are a bit unconventional, so I'll explain. I live with four guys: three sons and a husband. As good as they are and as accurate as they try to be, sometimes their aim misses the mark (and I'm not referring to expertise with a gun during deer hunting season).
In a busy household such as mine, toilet seats (and flushing for that matter) can become an issue. After a period of time, certain things just don't come clean (and I'm not talking about my teenagers after a late night Saturday escapade). When scrubbing becomes futile, I resolve to treat the household to new (shiny and white) toilet seats. This may not seem like much, but it is a resolution worth attempting. Plus, because my husband does the actual installation, it is a resolution I can attain. I like to think of it as a resolution partnership - which works for me.
New toilet seats make a minor dent in our long list of needed home improvement projects for the new year. But, I've found success with one resolution boosts your confidence and makes you want to get started on another - and recruit others to do the same. My husband - the great and almighty toilet seat installer - is already on board and ready to resolve again and again during the coming year. He's even willing to expand on his talents and think outside the bathroom. You gotta love that guy.
Next, we've decided to get our boys on the resolution bandwagon. They're attempting to polish their aim, which is a definite step in the right direction. Now, if we could only get them to resolve to flush.
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
