comfort by numbers

I am worried about money.

In fact, I basically flipped out on my nearest-and-dearest boyfriend about our impending vacation because… well… I might have overbooked myself.

I don’t have a problem overbooking my time. I do it all the time! Busy-ness is always temporary. You push through it and get over it and you’re done.

When you overbook your bank account, you cry while you write check after check and then you’re in debt.

So I cried this weekend about my diminishing financial stability.

But things have their way of occasionally working out in my favor.


I am worried about paying for our trip to DC/NYC/Generally East Coastin’.

And I find out that my dear friend Frank is opening his apartment unto us for an extra few days, dramatically cutting down on the room and board aspect of our travels.

I am worried about paying for all this stuff – [Haircut. Train ticket to Chicago in May. Plane ticket to San Antonio in June] – before my next paycheck.

And I find out that Uncle Sam is giving me 600 big ones this year, and that they will be deposited into my account on Thursday.

I am worried about depleting my accounts before I have to make The Big Move in August.

And I find out that my dear-darling-boyfriend’s dear-darling-Mother is planning on helping her two grown children move out of her house. Helping by providing a few months rent, and perhaps some moving expenses.

I am worried that every.single.penny. that leaves my wallet will completely bankrupt me.

And I remember that I have savings. I don’t have debt. I’m getting 7 more hours a week starting in May.  I have parents and grandparents who will help me if I truly need it.

And that I might be overbooking myself,

but the money’s going to take me some places that I would really like to go

to spend some quality time with the people I love,

see the ones that I miss so dearly,

and there will be enough left for my future.

All this overbooking? It’s not wasted money at all.

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