MyEmissionsExchange.com wants you to lower your carbon footprint—that is, the energy you use in your day-to-day activities that results in carbon dioxide being added to the atmosphere. Driving, using your air conditioner, watching television—just about everything that requires gasoline or electricity produces carbon. And excess carbon, of course, has been blamed by many for worsening climate change.

Sign up for an account on the site, then grab a recent utility bill. Enter your last 12 months of usage, and voila—you’re in business. Your mission: Reduce your energy usage. Looking for ideas? The website offers some suggestions, such as switching to compact fluorescent light bulbs, shrinking your shower by two minutes, and using cold water to wash clothes.

As your utility bills go down, the site certifies your energy savings as official “carbon credits” and then sells them on the international carbon market.

(Quick tutorial: As limits are placed on the amount of carbon companies can produce, those that fall under the cap are able to sell the extra credits to companies that exceed it. At least, in theory.)

According to the site, carbon credits trade for roughly $10 to $25 each, the website takes a small cut, and the rest is yours, deposited into your PayPal account. It’s not going to net you a great deal of money—each credit requires a ton of carbon savings (literally), which might take you six months or longer to accrue. But you’ll also be saving on your utilities each month.

I’m interested to see if the concept bears out.

Would you reduce your carbon footprint for cash?

I'm annoyed because I allowed myself to fall into a well-known trap. You know the one where you think you can accomplish way more than you actually can. But I think I am basing my beliefs that I can get it all done on those times when everything goes right: I have super human energy, pitch perfect timing, the total cooperation of others and there's no full moon. I forget that those times are in fact rare instead of the norm. (Maybe it is the basis of my own comedy show).

But the other reason is that I have forgotten to touch the proverbial bottom of the pool. When I was younger I wouldn't go very far until I knew just how close to the top of my head the water was (even though I was a decent swimmer). That way I knew how much energy I would need to expend to get back to shore and gage my actions accordingly. And I need to find a comparable measure to keep me from this metaphorical drowning (which although not life-threatening can be quite stressful if I don't remember that not getting it all done is not the end of the world—just a recalibration).

I am going to try out a few techniques and let you know how they work (hint: you'll know it didn't work if I say I'm over my head again). In the meantime, tell me what you do when you find yourself in your own version of over your head. Maybe knowing what you do will help me. 

One of that book’s most important lessons is simple, and it applies to adults just as much as to children: acknowledge the reality of other people’s feelings. Don’t deny feelings like anger, irritation, fear, or reluctance; instead, articulate the other person’s point of view. Sounds easy, right? Wrong.

I knew I did this with my children, saying things like “You’re not hungry,” “Clowns aren’t scary,” and "You always have fun at camp.” But once I started thinking about it, I realized that I did it with adults, too – especially my husband; and adults do the same to me – especially my husband.

For example, recently I undertook a MAJOR household project. Which, I admit, I did with about zero grace – but I did do it. My husband was all too aware of my simmering resentment. At one point, he looked around and said, “Well, this job doesn’t look too tough.” Wrong move! He likely thought he was being encouraging. Instead, he enraged me. It would have been better to have acknowledged my feelings, by saying something like, “Wow, this looks like a huge job, it’s great that you’re doing this.” Plus it never hurts to give me some gold stars.

I’ve found, too, that when other people deny or ignore my feelings, I tend to keep repeating myself (i.e., whining), because I don’t feel heard. Even if I don’t particularly feel like talking about the annoying problem with our elevator, until I get my “Wow, that must have been a drag” from my husband, I can’t let it go.

Now I’m trying to do a better job, myself. I stop myself when I start saying things like, “That trip won’t be too much of a pain,” or “It will only take you five minutes to get this figured out.” I do better when I acknowledge my husband's feelings, instead of arguing against them. Also, it’s an approach that makes me feel understanding, instead of argumentative, and that’s nicer too.

The days are long, but the years are short.

The problem? These funds got walloped by the stock market's recent dive—even those with upcoming retirement targets. Like, say, 2010. Shouldn’t those funds have been really conservative?

And therein lies the problem with target date funds. You can’t really pick a year and forget it. Various funds that target the same year all have different mixes and goals.

Some things to keep in mind if you’re contemplating stashing some of your retirement money into one:

Not all funds are created equal.

Just because two funds share the same target retirement year doesn’t mean you’ll find the same investment mix inside. One might be 90% stocks while another one is only half that. Make sure you check the composition.

Some are more expensive.

Don’t forget to look up the fund’s expense ratio—or the amount you’ll pay each year to maintain it. Vanguard charges only 0.18% for its 2045 fund, for instance, while Fidelity charges 0.80% (more than four times as much).

They adjust at different rates.

In theory, as you get closer to your chosen retirement date, these funds will become more conservative. But how does that happen? Do they move things around every year? Every couple of years? Give the company a ring and ask them. You’ll probably want a fund that reallocates on a regular schedule, but if they change things up too frequently (quarterly, say), you might pay more in expenses.

They might not be for you.

Retirement—and saving for it—is a pretty individual thing. “These funds are doing an asset allocation based on what they think everybody at that retirement date should do,” says Constance Stone, a financial planner in Chagrin Falls, Ohio. “And that may not be appropriate for everyone.” If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, go see an adviser who can set you up with something more personalized.

What questions do you have about these funds?

Abstainers find it easier to give something up entirely than to indulge moderately. When I admitted to myself that I was eating my favorite frozen “fake food” treat, Tasti D-Lite, two and even three times a day, I gave it up cold turkey. That was far easier for me to do than to eat Tasti D-Lite twice a week. If I try to be moderate, I exhaust myself debating, “Today, tomorrow?" "Does this time ‘count?’” etc. If I never do something, it requires no self-control for me; if I do something sometimes, it requires enormous self-control.

Moderators do better in, well, moderation – when they try to make small changes, when they avoid absolutes and bright lines. They often find that occasional indulgence heightens their pleasure and strengthens their resolve. They feel trapped by the thought of “never” getting or doing something.

There’s no right way or wrong way – it’s just a matter of knowing which strategy works better for you. If moderators try to abstain, they feel panicky and rebellious. If abstainers try to be moderate, they spend a lot of time justifying why they should go ahead and indulge.

People can be surprisingly judgmental about which approach you take. As an abstainer, I often get disapproving comments like, “It’s not healthy to take such a strict approach” or “Can’t you let yourself have a little fun?” On the other hand, I hear fellow abstainer-types saying to moderators, “You can’t keep cheating and expect to make progress” or “Why don’t you just go cold turkey?” But different approaches work for different people. (Exception: with an actual addiction, like alcohol or cigarettes, people generally accept that abstaining is the only solution.)

How about you? Do you do better when you abstain from a temptation, or when you indulge in moderation? It’s important to recognize the approach that works better for you, because you’ll have a far easier time changing your habits when take into account your nature.

The days are long, but the years are short.

As I watched scenarios unfold without the stress of having to worry about boarding a flight, I realized why the airport hustle can often be a stressful experience: basically you have to have a willingness to be vulnerable. Before you literally strip off layers of clothing to get through security you must contend with luggage issues—not only the number of bags you check, but how much they weigh. Most of us would rather keep that number to ourselves (along with our body weight). I watched two men open a huge suitcase trying to figure out which items weighed the most so they could haphazardly stuff them in a shopping bag one was carrying onto the plane. Then there's the anxiety about setting off the alarm as you pass through security. This is my personal issues since my choice of bras has been known to sound alarms in various cities—which would be funny except that it leads to the awkward pat down (which I am no fan of). Then, once you get to the gate, there's a possibility that your flight could be delayed for a whole hosts of reasons.Vulnerable indeed.

More annoying is arriving at the ticket counter only to discover that you've gotten there too late to actually get on the plane. Now what constitutes too late varies by airline. But if you have bags to check the ticket agent may stop you in your tracks at T minus 35 minutes. Such was the case for a young couple who arrived at the ticket counter with their toddler daughter in tow and a skycap carrying quite a bit of luggage. They were under the impression that they could still make their flight. The agent informed them otherwise (even though there weren't even close to final boarding) while the Sky Cap stood them awkwardly for what probably seemed like eons to him.

I've only watched snippets of the  reality show "Airline"  (clip above). But it is clear that how people handle a monkey wrench in their plans is literally a make or break moment. I don't know how cordial the couple's conversation was at the counter (they were up there chatting for some time) but I was clear about the outcome. In order to reach their destination, this family would have to return the next day and pay $150 to change each of their tickets. (Steep when you consider the number of people involved.) I heard this all because they sat down near me to figure out their options. When I left the airport they were still thinking of ways to deal with this unexpected expense. 

Anyway, I think that  "terminal fatigue" happen to us all from time to time. It's inevitable. But in this case it is best to expect the unexpected. (Although it does sometimes help to leave the house super early—but even then there are no guarantees).