At 5 o’clock yesterday as I was uploading a file for a client, eager to finish up so I could get to my circuit training class and then back home to get ready for 7:30 dinner reservations with my family (sister and boyfriend visiting from San Francisco), my neighbor/friend/condo board president called to inform me of the latest drama: status of on-going legal issues with the developer who sold us the building (another issue for another day), and a $6k insurance bill we need to handle that’s coming due in September. Awesome. We began chatting about whether it would be prudent to raise dues again or issue a special assessment each year when my brain literally exploded all over my desk. “I don’t know, I can’t think, I have a million things going on at once.” Insert shitty mood here.
I love my condo, and I have tried not to freak out about all of the nightmarish “stuff” that followed my purchase (what’s the point? beyond my control anyway!), but I snapped a bit yesterday. As I understood, insurance was supposed to be included in our dues (that we had to raise this year to boot). We had a similar issue last year thanks to mistakes that were made by the developer originally, but wait what? That never got fixed? Every year I’ll get blindsided with, “Oh hai, we need $1,000 kthxbai.” You know? I was on the board last year so I suppose it’s my fault to a degree, but we PAY ASSOCIATION MANAGERS, they’re the professionals who I trust will bring something like that to my attention. I think a $6k bill is kind of a big deal. Is that just me?!!
Seems like there are people that have this kind of money just lying around, they may get upset, but more because it’s an inconvenience because that money was earmarked for tech stock. It is frustrating to think that one emergency financial situation stands between me and a cardboard box. Not to be whiny or anything but well, I’m here, so let me just say that I would like for once in my life to think, “Gee, I have worked hard and have this extra money to show for it, I really should treat myself to a nice vacation or a shopping spree.”
But nope. I can’t do anything fun when SHIT LIKE THIS always comes up! Always. Every time. The car breaks down, the insurance company won’t cover medical expenses, blah blah *stamps feet* being a grown up sucks!
After this latest breakup I’ve been trying to get out of a financial hole, and get a little “padding” established in the event that I need to cover all expenses on my own. Also, I REALLY need a vacation, I really do. Really. In order to accomplish said financial feats, I’ve told all of my colleagues that I want their overflow, to please keep their ears to the ground if they hear of anything because I want to work, work, work this summer, and I would prefer not to have to take a second job. I’ve implemented a “don’t say no to work!” policy and things are picking up nicely. And, I’ve cut down on all unnecessary expenditures: chewing gum, trashy magazines, bottled beverages, having a life. Then, you know, THIS: “Get back in that hole and this time crawl in a little deeper!” I hate giving my money to insurance companies, what a freaking scam - they’re never there to help you out in a jam anyway. Where were they when my ceiling fell off? Or when the doctor found a lump in my breast and I needed a biopsy? NOWHERE, THAT’S WHERE! I PAY, ME!
So anyway, I ended up missing my circuit training class by a few minutes and didn’t feel like walking in late, so I didn’t even get a proper workout to relieve the tension. (I hopped on the elliptical but it just isn’t the same when you’re all mentally prepared to have your fat ass handed to you by a skilled trainer.) When my family arrived to pick me up for dinner, all I did was vent for about 20 minutes. HOW ANNOYING AM I? Then, we arrived at the steakhouse where they don’t have a single solitary vegetarian item on the menu and the MANAGER (the. manager.) came over, bent at the knees and whispered (whispered!), “I understand somebody here needs a vegetarian meal.”
I said, “Yes, so throw three blue-cheese stuffed olives in a martini and we’ll call it good.”
I blew my detox and don’t even feel guilty about that. I had a martini, then another, and all was right and square in my world again. Who needs a savings account, that’s what God invented vodka for.
