I’m a little stressed out. I’m thinking about money, and I hate thinking about money. I’m the master of Excel spreadsheets and thinking about how much we’ll spend where, and on what. I’ve been doing it for years, since I was 14 years old, living on Saipan, when I got my first checkbook. I had my first job, and there was just nothing like the smell of that blue plastic cover, and the blank,lined record pages. I believe the first check I wrote was to Joe-Ten, the drugstore, and I bought a romance novel and some chocolate.
Then I went home and made a budget. Wrote detailed lists of what I would make, and what I would spend. I’m doing the same thing now, only instead of cents, I round up to the nearest fifty bucks, and I’m still bad at guessing.
When we were kids, Christy would always save her allowance (she’s still a saver, much wiser with her money that I am). I’d blow it on candy within an hour of getting my dollar (four Hershey’s bars). I’m still very much that way — I’ve been lucky and I’ve worked hard for what I have, and now what WE have, but I still blow too much money in places it shouldn’t be blown. It’s not like I buy clothes, or cars, or the other things that people spend money on. I haven’t even bought much yarn in the past six months. I guess house-having is just ‘spensive, and I’m still trying to offload the condo, too. I accepted an offer on it today — please think good thoughts, because we NEED this to go through. Managing two mortgages is icky. I don’t like it at all.
And of course, as soon as the belt tightens, and we discuss seriously that until we pay off the honeymoon debt we won’t spend ANY extraneous money, all I want is sushi. Here in the Bay Area, since this isn’t Vancouver, home of perfectness and all-you-can-eat-sushi for five bucks, sushi is always $40. No matter how much or how little you order, it’s always somehow $40. We haven’t figured that out yet, but it’s not in the budget right now, so I have to get over my fish craving. Darn it.
All for good reasons. But I’m a little cranky about it, can you tell? And I’m nervous about the offer on the condo — if it goes through, great. If it falls through, that’s another month in unsuccessful escrow that we have to pay mortgage on, and mama’s shoes are awful damn thin, you know? I’ll have to rent it out then, instead of selling it, and that’s a loss every month that we’ll have to make up.
I dunno. I guess I’m just whingeing. You’re polite to still be reading. I’ll tell you a funny story to reward you:
Yesterday I was on the back porch, reading (during my LOVELY pajama day. Best pajama day EVER). I heard gunfire and then screaming. (Our Oakland neighborhood is…. colorful.) Then I heard more gunfire, and more screaming. And more, and more.
Then I figured it out: It was the high school we live behind, having a track meet. They’d fire the gun, and people would scream for the runners. Then they’d do it again. And again.
Have a good weekend, y’all. Go congratulate The Cutest Blogger of All, Carrieoke. (I swear, she’s even cuter in person. Defies belief.) Carrie, you’re gonna love marriage. Promise.
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