Sunday, March 21, 2010

My Approval Rating

I must share a few things (and if this post makes you feel like you're too much inside my head, forgive me).
I like to obey the law: speeding is not for me (which is why BJ drives whenever we're together). I read instruction manuals so that I know how to correctly operate things (this is fodder for teasing in my family). I like to follow recipes instead of straying into unfamiliar territory with weird ingredients or messed up ratios. (I once made a lava cake, changing the recipe with a portion of margarine instead of all butter and it turned out terrible.) I'm lost without to-do lists with easy-to-check-off boxes (a list from last week: take out trash, mail Netflix movie, do dishes. Check, check, check).
These kinds of things make me feel comfortable. I like to know what's expected of me and I like knowing that I can accomplish it within my own means. Inside my head I have an "approval rating" like you might see for a seller of used books on Amazon. Each time I do a task I can check off a box and know that I've done what's required. I don't mind going an extra mile, and often times I do. But I am at ease when I know I've met someone's expectations (including my own). The more tasks I complete = the higher the approval rating.
What am I getting at? Well, this week I found myself distracted with worry because I wasn't meeting the expectations that other people put on me and it's really caused me to wonder about myself.
For example, Friday is recycling day. I get the basket out in the morning before I take Toby to preschool (check). Friday I took Norah for a jog and we got home right as the recycling truck drove by our house--without picking up my basket. For the next hour and a half I wondered, "what was wrong with my basket that caused the trash guys to just skip my house?" I called the trash company and asked why they skipped my house (I wouldn't have called if I hadn't seen them drive right by--after just picking up my neighbors' baskets). They couldn't figure it out either, but they made a special trip back to pick up my recycling later that day. But I worry that I did something wrong (did I not sort it right?) and that I've become "that house" the trash guys want to avoid.
This morning I got an email asking me to send a check I mailed weeks ago. Panic begins... Someone expected payment and I send the check. But what happens when they don't get it? I immediately blame the post office. Unfortunately, it was my error: I had an old payment address in the bill pay. Now I'm worried this person has lost respect for me because of such a stupid mistake!
Ugh. Maybe I can find something to do around here while I wait for this to get resolved, something that's an easy task to check off....Maybe Toby needs help putting legs back on his Lego men. ;o)
OK now, if you've made it this far, thanks for reading. I'm done. ~hugs~


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