Don’t tell me it’s free, cause I’ll take it
A quick essay on consumerism.
It doesn’t even need to be nice, like semi-skimmed milk, but I’ll take it.
My preference is full-cream. It’s more swig-able and suitable for three scoops of instant in the morning. But, for the next week (or however long it takes me to work through this half-assed 2L), I’ll have to forgo my pre-coffee chug.
With the knowledge I’ll survive, I also remind myself I’ll thrive, because I just saved myself £2.25.
This milk came with the B&B I’m currently at. You could label it complementary, but I prefer free. Sounds better, and means the £1.65 Kit-Kat Chunky I’ll get at the check-out is now technically free, because I didn’t buy milk.
I hate to miss the opportunity. Like bread baskets, or building a stamp collection on a loyalty coffee card (so I can acquire another free chug of milk). That’s why I got so upset when I lost my purse in Copenhagen, I only had one stamp to go. A credit card is replaceable, but free things are not. They’re rare and precious and should be hugged. Like my sister is doing below with our bucket of free (overripe, brown and squishy) avocados. Can’t wait to grapple with what to do with them.
If someone put a bow around it, things would be different. Gifts and free things are not the same. A gift is an expression that you’ve thought of someone, a free thing is more blasé, an offer you could take or leave. Like the green ottoman left on the curb for hard rubbish collection. I didn’t mind that it was missing two buttons, because it was free, so I wheeled it home.
That’s where the best free things come from, the side of the street, and I’ve learnt from the best, Sophie. She spotted a pair of Adidas sneakers on my birthday, and they were my size (a rare intersection of free and gifted (from the universe)). I’ve witnessed her sift through ‘junk’ and walk away with glassware, bags and even a mirror. She was there when I found a medicine ball. I’ve since realised I didn’t actually need it, and have returned it to the earth in my own hard rubbish collection, the city’s circle of life. I hope Sophie picked it up.
I’ve found nature does offer the most free things. Sidewalk herbs, flowers in a Surry Hills’ dumpster, most beaches, some camping spots and tap water at restaurants. They’re also the most grounding, compared to when I approach Baker’s Delight purely for the sample box (they’re always buttered), or when I try seven ice-cream flavours before going back to the first option, I feel like a dick, but I can’t help it.
I pretend it’s because times are tough, but the squeeze is just adding to the appeal, the creativity. Can’t finish your croissant? Bags. Need a book? Outdoor library box. Tub of tampons at the gym? Better grab three. Don’t panic, my periods are irregular, just like the price of milk.
