Sorry to disappoint if you thought this post was a harangue about “the morning after” birth control plan. I am not going to mention that except to say: plan “B” birth control got its name from the original “Plan B”; the thing one does when plan “A” does not work out, or is less successful than anticipated.
In life, Plan “B” (and sometimes even plan “C” and “D” and on through to “Z”) are integral tools in the arsenal of the “can do” person. The “up and take another,” the “don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” or “let’s make some lemonade “philosophy.
Having a plan “B” and a plan “C” is part of thinking things through ahead of time; a part of comprehending that life’s situations are made up of relationships and people; and that because we can’t control people; there are a number of routes a situation can take. It is good to be prepared.
The existence of a plan “B” or plan “C” enables one to take healthy risks in business or other ventures. Plan “B” as a safety net enables confident learning. One is free to fly high and wild and soar to unexpected heights when one has a trustworthy safety net. One is free, as a child or neophyte, to learn a better plan B via mistakes and failures; without committing suicide or winding up in hell because the first experiment failed.
Acapulco, Mazatlàn, Puerto Vallarta; who cares. Somewhere back in time, I knew a couple who traveled to one of these picturesque destinations to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary. Upon arrival, they found the weather dismal with a constant drizzle. No problem, they immediately commenced plan “B” and hopped a few hundred miles to an alternate beach and cheerful sun. They were able to switch course “on a dime” because they had a few dimes to spare and with ease could alter travel and lodging arrangements.
Decades ago, I was a Tupperware Lady. One day as I was packing up my wares after a late morning coffee showing, I witnessed the essence of housewifely plan “B” in action. The man of the house was expected home for lunch. The woman was preparing grilled cheese sandwiches. With all the distractions, the sandwiches burned just before he walked in the door. Pulling out a can of tuna and a fresh loaf of bread, the woman never missed a beat; lunch was on the table with only 4 minutes delay.
The huge burden of poverty as I know it; the unrelenting stress; is that there is absolutely no room for error. Cheese and 8 slices of bread is all the pantry holds. Plan “A” must work or the world comes to an end; and the celebration is spoiled. A little bit of breathing room, a savings account, a modicum of emotional wealth; however, and one can self-alter the aim as the target moves. Who cares if it is plan A or Q or Z, as long as we are going with the flow; adjusting the destination as necessary.
