Repair Shop – The Upgrade Problem
Life will present us with all sorts of interesting problems to solve whether we want them or not. And I know I’m speaking from a place of privilege to even voice these problems — as someone who can afford internet in the home, for one thing. (My day job teaches me that this is not always the case — both having a home and the internet). So.
One small conundrum I have is regarding our TV and our Netflix. I recently re-subscribed after cancelling it during the pandemic because I just couldn’t have one more monthly bill. We were in trimming mode. Lately, I’ve pledged to work out more, go on the treadmill for a bit every day if possible. Walk more. Okay, but honestly, I needed motivation, something good to watch, and I know Netflix worked for me in previous years when I hadn’t let myself go. Well, when I wasn’t too depressed to work out. You know. Anyway. Netflix. Great. I watch it on my iPad on the treadmill, but also want the opportunity to watch it on our TV. (Sorry, long tedious story). But our TV is now so old, it isn’t compatible. So the conundrum, get a new TV, or downgrade the Netflix and just watch it on my iPad, and get rid of the TV entirely. Maybe a plant would look nice there on the TV stand? I don’t know. There’s math involved too, right? And one must factor in enjoyment. Enjoyment is not the worst thing to pay a monthly fee for. But if you add the monthly fee plus a new TV, is it really worth it? I’m not sure yet. And what would happen to the old TV? Goodwill? Value Village? It still works to play DVDs. Already I’m exhausted just typing this out. If I get the new TV and keep my upgraded Netflix should I think about getting another part-time job to pay for it all…on and on, lol. Or, what kind of plant would I get instead of the TV?
And then, last week I got an email from my web platform Squarespace saying they’re now offering recurring subscriptions, a button much like my tip jar below. Great! This would save me from thinking about going on Substack or begging for more tips, or any of the other possibilities one mulls when writing a blog these days. I’m always the late adopter and also, alas, just not really famous/popular enough to start making actual money off of these endeavours. I did try Patreon, and left because it started feeling odd. And I was generally burned out, in the clinical sense.
So, lovely, right? I’ll just add that button! Give that a go. But of course not because this blog is 10000 years old and runs on a different version of SS. So I’d have to upgrade to the new version and then this template isn’t tranferable so I’d have to redesign the whole site. Which I could do. I have the ability. But do I want to change the look? Do I want to spend the time? Or should I just migrate slowly on over to Substack like most clever writers have? Or should I just continue on as I am etc etc. though that also feels foolhardy.
It’s the upgrade problem. Which sort of reminds me of the museum problem (which is not at all like this problem but I did write about it in my book The Flower Can Always Be Changing). It’s the upgrade problem, and I’m looking for a map to solving it.
Part of the upgrade problem is that I usually like to solve my problems by being lazy. You know, like the mystics. Rumi (tr. Coleman Barks) says, “Mystics are experts in laziness. They rely on it…”
When I worked in a restaurant in my youth, there was a co-worker who called me lazy. I was always “sauntering” or “loping” around the tables, which irked, apparently. This was fine. I have long legs, and the best servers usually are lazy — calculating the least amount of steps to take to get things done the most efficiently, right? Well, I thought so. And I probably did saunter. I also made more tips most nights than this other person. Enough anyway. I think this experience confirmed for me then, that lazy was okay for a lot of things, if that was what it was to be lazy.
Will laziness fix the upgrade problem? That remains to be seen.
A digression perhaps, next:
A couple of years ago now a person came into my workplace asking about what it was like to work there and how to go about applying etc. I probably gave her way more info than she even needed but it was a really pleasant conversation. A while later, she came back with a plant and a card for me because she’d gotten a job. I was very touched by this thoughtfulness.
This weekend I had a shift with this person, who is delightful. And I told her the story of the plant, a small story. And anyway, I kind of love this story and she did too, so here it is.
We had a course related to leadership and we had to have a project which we would later present to the rest of the group doing the same course. I’d just been given this plant, which I put on the desk I shared with 3 or 4 other folks. I made a small tent card saying “please water when dry.” I think I might have drawn a happy face on the card with black felt pen. I mentioned the new plant and got the okay for it being there from the desk mates. After that, I never watered the thing and it flourished. Like, it really fucking thrived. It was a brilliant little plant.
My project was to “include others” and I did a few other things around that but the plant was the centerpiece of it all for me.
Naturally when it came time to present our projects, others presented flow charts they’d made, or really interesting ways to streamline processes. The person right before me had designed a truly remarkable and extensive tech-related system that revolutionized a process. When it was my turn, I got to say, uhhh, I put a plant on a desk and then just sat back and relaxed. I mean, I still think that juxtaposition is funny! Regardless, I think about that project all the time. How sometimes the easiest solutions will stick with you. How it wouldn’t have even come about had I not been gifted with that sweet little plant. How you can turn gifts into other gifts. How you can ask for a little help and include others into your processes, relinquish, and then magic happens, growth happens. Flourishing might ensue!
In short, whenever I’m faced with some kind of problem I do tend to ask myself, what is the laziest possible way to go about this?
In our family we often roll out the SpongeBob quotation, about doing things the semi-easy medium hard way. And sometimes it comes to that. The elegant solution though, might just be the mystic’s solution.
Note: the plant pictured is not the plant mentioned in the post. It was a ferny fluffy thing, seemed to require a fair bit of watering.
