I was on my 3rd day of recovery when I chatted with my boss (because speaking was painful) and he told me that we would have 12 days of furloughs for the next 3 months. Holy shit. So, you mean to tell me that I just spent money I don't have on a surgery I had a plan to pay back and now my plan is not only spoiled, but completely raped? Recovery is fun.
So I cried some. And that hurt. So I stopped crying. I coped. And I checked my finances religiously. And you know what, I was doing okay there for a while. But, in reality I did okay for a month into the actual deduction taking place (since work's paychecks are delayed by 4 weeks - so even though my furlough ended last week, my checks won't return to normal until October. Come'on October!) And then I moved.
And hello moving costs! and welcome to my incredible shrinking bank account. Ta-dah! So you have the security deposit, and the car registration (but we're not even going to go there), including new brake pads to pass inspection, and so on and so sexy forth. Also, in this time, I had a spree of "Woo! I'm young and I'm broke anyway. Let's live!" So you know what I did? Do you know?! I got sushi. That's right. Half price sushi. And then not half price sushi. And then you know what I did? I got half price sushi again. And then lunch price sushi. Sprinkle a bar tab or two in there and a drunken night with a WTF happened?! and, oh, a pair of shoes and maybe a new dress from Ross Dress for Less (what up foreign people?!), not to mention those 2 parking tickets and a photo trap in June and I'm fiscally screwed. That's hot, right?
And the thing about it is, I was really doing okay. I was checking my finances. But the sushi and the moving and the WTF happened and it all compounded to go to broke-ass-chick. And you know what Fergie's daddy said? So perhaps I should take my broke ass home, cause I ain't got no money. But damn, yo-be. Summer's almost gone. Warm weather is turning to cool and soon I'll be a winter hobbit choosing to stay in and keep warm with my vodka rather than dragging my tipsy ass out in the cold. (I could barely walk through some parts of summer. Hey sexy shoes, meet uneven brick sidewalks.)
Well, regardless, I may not have a choice but to stay in. I don't do well in the crowded bar scene without a bit of lubrication (which I can now no longer afford). Some sort of claustrophobic social anxiety. I need my 2 feet of personal space...unless I know you...and like you. But the weather, the weather. But I digress the bar scene anxiety, because now I have some additional anxiety brought on my financial woes. (Oh, did I forget to tell you I need to pay off my credit card by Dec. or I get charged 23% interest? Because that's a wholly important detail. Or main chapter.) My ever-depleting bank statement has sent me into a tizzy both last week and this. And by "tizzy" I mean mini panic attacks.
I used to just think I felt "nervous". It took me about 10 years to realize this was anxiety. Lately, I've been gasping for air, which evidently sounds like a yawn, and having my heart feel like it was going to beat out of my chest or come up through my throat, and clocked the pulse in at about 80 BPM. This has happened before, but very recently has been increasing in both frequency and severity. So I message my personal nurse (read: mom); the women in my family have the genetic abnormality called: Mitral Valve Prolapse that she said I may have. So I researched it, in hopes of proving it just to be anxiety and not anything actually wrong with me, only to find that "Anxiety, panic attacks, and depression may be associated with mitral valve prolapse. Like fatigue, these symptoms are believed to be related to imbalances of the autonomic nervous system".
Damn. They're not mutually exclusive. In fact, they're linked. Well, that plan backfired. Thanks Internets.
So now I have to make an appoint with a cardiologist, says my
So now I'm stuck wondering if I should sell my It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia "The Nightman Cometh" tickets that I excitedly bought (before they sold out in 3 minutes) as an early birthday present for myself when I still thought I had a financial cushion (4 weeks ago). Or say "fuck it" and just live my life. Money is for spending and saving is just delayed spending and I'm young once and there are only five showings nationwide, but that credit card, that haunting credit card...