So after a rocky and psychosis-enlivening start, our hold-your-breath-and-jump method of financial management has borne fruit of the monetary kind. Dare I say the poorpocalypse has been averted? Will that anger the contract fates? I do not know, but I do know this: it is so nice to have a positive bank balance again. For serious.
Of course, that means I’m busy. Like, crazy busy, the kind of busy where you can feel yourself ctrl-alt-whatevering in your sleep. The kind of busy where you forget what day it is because it’s been that long since you took an actual day off. In my house we call this “normal,” but I suspect that’s just because there are two of us. (Well, three, but the kid’s too short to get a vote.)
But it’s good. Good! I like working, and I like money, and I like the things I buy with money. And it’s nice to see that we can, in fact, make this work. (Note to fates: I am not tempting you.)
But you know what? I totally think we should start saving for a vacation, once we’re back in a position to save for things. Someplace tropical. Except that I’ve been watching Lost lately so we may have to walk there.
Zen as I might be about socioeconomic status, there’s still a part of me that gets off on being able to Afford Things. Nice things. Things like my prettypretty BlackBerry Pearl or our multitude of Apple products. That part of me really, really wants to join this snooty athletic club that’s $100 a month and totally, completely impractical. But they totally offer childcare, and the idea of paying someone to watch my kid while I take a yoga class? Compelling. (See, because when I leave him with Not So for no reason except that there’s something I ‘want’ to do, I always feel guilty. Yes yes, I know, therapy would help with these things. But – another reason to feel guilty! You see my dilemma.)
I’m starting to feel a little bit like our lives are getting managable, which – hey, there’s a reason I take meds, you know? When just getting out of bed in the morning seems huge and untenable, it’s kind of a big deal to think that things might actually be okay, kind of. It was cleaning the house that did it. We’ve got this great apartment that I love unreasonably (well, except for the permeating smell of Rice Junkies that greets me every morning), but it’s jammed so full of stuff that it might as well be a storage unit. But Not So went all MacGyver on the stuff in Ellison’s room this weekend, so not only is all our old crap hidden successfully in the closet, we finally got to assemble the kid’s toddler bed! And, dude, don’t even get me started on how exciting it is to think that someday in the possibly near future I may be able to sleep through the night again. In any position I want. I can barely contain my potential bliss.
Next step is to get our room whipped into shape. This is a bit more complicated than it sounds, since we’re waiting to be able to afford these cheap-but-cute wardrobes from Ikea so that I can stop keeping my clothes in a big ol’ Rubbermaid storage bin and actually explore the idea of drawers.