Woke up this morning strangled in Lochlan's elbow. The light looks weird. I get up and see that there is frost on the ground and everything is iced up, there is steam on a line at the bottom of the balcony doors and Ben is bundled in most of the blankets on the bed, which explains me waking up early, slightly chilled.
The papers are doom, gloom and incredulousness. The unhelpful tips from financial institutions (ratehub, I'm looking at you) are so useless, I hope no one bites.
Build up an emergency fund of six months worth of expenses. Okay, how, when a can of generic store-brand hot chocolate is EIGHT dollars? And also, we should all have this fund already. But then they go on to say to use it to deal with the rising cost of living. Oh, so spend the emergency fund on hot chocolate? Got it!
The next tip to manage your money is to buy Canadian! Right! On guard for thee! But the Canadian generic hot chocolate is EIGHT dollars and the US made an hour from here is FOUR dollars. Gotcha. Spend double. My emergency fund is depleted in three months. Am I doing it right?
A third tip goes on to say we should snowball debt by paying off the big interest rate items first. Ummm, that isn't what a debt snowball is. The snowball comes from paying off the smallest owings first and then rolling that payment into the next biggest one and then boom, you're hitting the biggest thing with more payments and getting rid of it faster. Does it work? Heck if I know. If you have that many bits and pieces of debt that you need a hierarchy for them the smart thing to do would be start a niche porn channel and get that shit paid off. Or better yet, stop buying things you don't need. And if you do need all those things, then...
Marry rich.
YEESH.
Maybe I'll start a financial newsletter of my own:
Step one: Be incredibly risk-adverse and hoard all gold (procured from the Rich Man, with my charm) in my cave up in the mountains.
Step two: Hire a dragon to guard it all.
Wow, that was easy. Right?
Right?
It's all so stupid.
What else is happening? Oh, the neighbours finally had it with our tattoos and motorcycles and fire and...collectiveness and put their house up for sale. I hope our new neighbours are cool but only a select group can afford this area so odds are someone overseas will loophole it and it will sit empty. Yay. Why can't a nice family move in and we can exchange pie recipes over the garden fence?
I think I need to move back to Nova Scotia.
Except I white-knuckled it through the snow and I guess the winter was harder than I thought and it was only two weeks long, so imagine me back in a place where it's winter for nine months straight.
*Cues up Matthew Good on the car stereo and hides everything with an edge*
Yeah, maybe not. Maybe just a few more years here while I try and glue my head on straight. This stage of my life (menopause, family pets dying, kids growing up and no longer needing me at all, boys busy with whatever boys do) is kicking my ass all over the point and I feel a little bit helpless and a little bit fragile but also a whole lot ridiculous.
I look around and everyone else is doing great. I know, look closer. My therapist (that would be August) says everyone has the same problems and they also worry. Somehow that makes me feel better. I'm so glad I don't pay him though, because logically I know this already. It just seems weird. August says if I got out more (he snort-laughed when he said it), I would see that I exist in a fish bowl (JUST KEEP SWIMMING), an echo chamber, if you will and I don't know how people deal with anything because I'm surrounded by Capable Men.
How do I get Capable Woman status? I ask him, never wanting something this badly before in my entire life.
You already have it. I don't know why you don't see it.
I can't open my eyes underwater, I point out helpfully, and he laughs again.