Fuck It/Fuck You Cycle
Monday Money Check-in: August 8
I speak to you from within my Lorazepam. They’re only for emergencies, but after not sleeping all night, trying to make myself feel better with the 7 a.m. yoga, and still feeling that anxiety that pulses, I swung by my car on the walk home to get one out of the glove box, where I keep them for emergencies.
It feels like a third tequila. What did I do? Oh, the usual. I started off the week well. Got my exactly $100 of grocery shopping done, got out my $100 of cash. Then I blanked out.
I woke up signing a bar tab on Sunday for $44, just a casual night out with a guy to watch Game of Thrones. How far had I gone over budget that week?
$320
Oh my god, I went $320 over a $100 budget. First, there were the drinks. I need to stop it with the $12 cocktails. I need to be a beer person. Repeat after me: a Stella, please. Not the Thom Kallins work of art that I slurp down in five minutes. A beer that no one had to work that hard for.
Secondly, there were costs for Italy. Oh yeah, remember that quick cheap trip for the $650 round-trip ticket? Well I just got my train to Florence ($100) and my hostel, just a $17 downpayment. Duh, dummy, it’s going to cost money, and you need to budget for an international trip the month BEFORE you go.
It’s like I spend all my week saying “Fuck it!” and just having fun. I spend the end of the week seeing what I’ve done and saying, “Fuck you.” On neither side of the spectrum do I respect myself.

So then I go crying to my mom this morning, as I do. I told her I need to cancel a date with my friend tomorrow to see the Infinite Mirrors exhibit, because it’s $35.
“Do you want me to buy that for you?” she says. “I’ll do that for my girl.”
Like usual, I say ok, knowing this is probably a big part of the problem.
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