So, I've only posted three times this year. I guess there hasn't been a lot going on since I finally got the job I've been looking for. I've always joked that you can tell I'm happy when I stop writing. It's always come in waves throughout my life. I get on a kick of writing on a semi-regular basis, and then I completely stop. I have been busy, though, which means obviously something's been going on in my life. And I really do enjoy keeping up with the blogging thing. I just ran out of ideas, I guess. My blog has evolved to so many different things since I started writing nearly ten years ago. It's not even close to what it was intended to be, but I guess that's a good thing. That being said, the reason is because I have a difficult time keeping it interesting. I was writing about my marriage before, and I think people enjoyed seeing how in love I was. Then it was about my divorce and the shit storm that became my life for a few years, and I think people enjoyed seeing the struggle, and the realness, and the eventual happiness. They enjoyed the journey. Then it was looking for a job, and all the crappiness that comes with that, and I think a lot of my friends just related to that. It struck a chord, because so many people were there. But, now I got the job. I got the guy. What more do I have to write about? So, I thought about it on the drive home from work today. Life.
Being an adult sucks. Like, a lot. There's always something more difficult than the day before. There's always something that you're not prepared for, always something you didn't plan for, something you want no part of. How does anyone keep their sanity trying to keep up with work, a social life, family obligations, finances, food (I have to think about this three times a day?! For real?!), health, etc. And how do we all do it on the measly salaries that we make?
Now, don't get me wrong. I guess you could say I'm comfortable. Looking back at where I was in 2009, or even 2014, I'm doing pretty damn well. But, in 2009, I was 24 and optimistic about the future. I also bit off more than I could chew buying a house mere months after getting my first professional job. And 2014, was my absolute lowest. I moved into a 585-square-foot apartment for $800 a month and could barely make ends meet. I remember not having enough bags to clean my cat's litter box, because I didn't have enough money to go grocery shopping regularly. I was using random boxes and emptying things out so I could have something to use to dispose of the dirty litter. I was also eating boxes of Stove Top Stuffing for dinner, or going to my mom's, because I couldn't afford to eat real meals. I was in the depths of grad school, the pit of depression, suffering through a job I hated, and not making enough to live. I was feeling every bit of that missing second income.
In any case, I pulled myself out of it. I finally moved into a two-bedroom, 1100-square-foot apartment, that I got approved for on my own. Ben moved in a few months later, but his name was never added to the lease. It's technically just mine, but he helps with the rent. I pay a little extra each month, since I make more than he does and have less debt, but I don't mind. I take home $600 a week and immediately put $200 aside for rent. I then put $100 towards my credit card or, if it's paid off, into my savings account. That leaves me with $300 a week to pay for food, fun, gas, and anything extra. If I have to get a haircut, I'll need to plan for it. If I want to buy clothes, I have to plan for it. If there's a birthday or a holiday coming up, I have to plan for it. This week in particular, I spent too much last Friday. I tried to make a deal with myself that every time I wanted to go to Barnes & Noble to buy more books, I'd go to Target instead and get myself some new clothes, since nothing fits me anymore. Only problem is that I spent nearly $150 at Target, whereas I would have probably spent less than $50 at B&N. So, yeah, that put a cramp in this week. Aside from the two birthday parties we had on Saturday (my nephew, and his cousin), it turns out my boss's birthday is on Sunday, so the team decided to treat him to lunch this week. I said I'd make cupcakes. The cupcakes didn't happen. It turns out, I didn't have the ingredients I needed in the house, and I don't have the money to buy them. At time of writing, I have about $60 in my account and I still have to get through two more days (and a gas fill). I'm feeling every bit of those new clothes I bought (and the snow shovel...and the potholders...and the wrapping paper....shutup). I had to ask a co-worker to spot me for the boss's lunch, because I just can't risk overdrawing my account...again.
I've also decided this week, after the clothes shopping, to try to start eating better...again. Literally nothing I own fits, because I haven't gone shopping since before I gained thirty pounds. Ugh. Last night I made a cream of asparagus soup from scratch (using a cookbook, obviously), which was surprisingly easy and quick. But, I blended it wrong (you'll find that's a common theme in my cooking), and it's just not very good. Oh well. It wasn't enough for dinner anyway, so PB&J came to the rescue. Don't judge. Needless to say, it hasn't been going well. I had a salad for lunch today, but Ben literally just walked out the door for pizza. I just friggin' like food, okay?
On top of that, I have a $1200 credit card bill from my yearly car inspection, and the holidays are coming up. It's kind of just never-ending. Last week I stood in my living room screaming for my mom, because I didn't feel like doing laundry. She wouldn't accept my offer of $20 for her to come pick it up, wash it, and bring it back. Thanks anyway, Mom. Oh, and let's not forget the random hip pain I've been getting all week. I doubt the $320 a month I pay for insurance gets me good enough coverage to cover whatever that's gonna be. I'm only 32, guys. Why do I feel like I'm 65?
Adulthood is not for the weak.
No comments:
Post a Comment