Okay, now I will be the first to admit that, when it comes to money, I can be a little frivolous. For the most part, I am really good at saving, but I can admit to being prone to little splurges here and there. Nothing big or crazy (except my new tv, which I will be posting about shortly), but mostly just day-to-day stuff. Like morning coffees, afternoon snacks, two gym memberships, $100 hair cuts (hey, the guy's worth it), and the occasional bike upgrade.
But I do save, and I save well. I don't usually buy things for the sake of buying them. For instance, I received, as a gift, the first model of the IPod when it came out four years ago, and still have it. My car is another example of which you are all familiar. And I rarely buy new clothes or shoes, unless they are of the running variety.
But when you are faced with the possibility of buying a house, money gets put into a whole new perspective. Perhaps the biweekly pedicures become once a month (thank god for the winter season), and perhaps eating out five days a week can be replaced by a once a week trip to the grocery store (ugh-my disdain for the grocery store is a post in and of itself). For me, I have started to really keep track of what goes in and out, which is tough, considering that I have never in my life balanced a checkbook or made a budget. I figured that would happen should I ever partner up or (gasp) have a family.
So when you are hit with a useless cost while trying to monitor your expenses, it can be a bit irritating, to say the least.
This happened to me twice in the last week alone. First, while spectating at the marathon, I returned to my car to find a $50 ticket. I believe I mentioned this, but it still chaps my hide. Fine, whatever, it was my fault, but who puts ONE sign for "Permit Parking Only" on the first few inches of a block, and then nowhere else? It doesn't help those of us who might want to park, say, halfway down the block. And certainly not those of us who are preoccupied by calculating the minutes per miles so as not to miss her friends, while balancing her Starbucks, and monitoring the sweat situation that is occurring under her armpits.
Whatever. I'm over that one.
But the second instance came today when I had to shell out almost $200 dollars (yeah, that's right) to replace the rear baby window on my 7-year-old Hyundai because some jag-off decided to punch it out in an attempt to steal the contents of my vehicle. Oh, and before you say it, just about everyone has already asked, "Why would they go after your car? Have they seen it? It's an effing Hyundai."
Yeah, thanks. Not helping.
Sure, I can understand that the delinquent might have been attracted to the mountains of paperwork, bag of random garbage, empty water bottles, extra pair of flip flops, last week's laundry and some old Mike n Ike boxes stuck in the door. Who wouldn't, right? But they didn't even take anything, expect a six-year-old broken laptop from the trunk, which actually did me a favor by taking it off my hands.
And, how nice of them, they left me with a broken window. And apparently, it is the most expensive to fix.
Now help me understand this. The most useless part of the car, the least functional piece of glass on the whole vehicle, is the most costly to replace. The little piece of crap doesn't even do anything! I can possibly understand if it rolled down, ya know, provided some needed air for the dogs when I take them to the park, or allowed for some needed ventilation on the days when its 100 degrees and I refuse to turn the air on (hate air conditioning almost as much as the grocery store).
And the truth of the matter is that I probably wouldn't have replaced it (L.A.Z.Y.), but even I am too vain to be driving around with duct tape over my window (courtesy of Big Cheese). Yes, I know, it's weird that I would drive a little shitbox that has over 110,000 miles, and is more dented and scratched that my previous love life, but still be embarrassed about duct tape over her window.
But even I have some standards.
Despite what you might have heard.
So I shoved on over to the west side. Side note: Why are all these places in the worst and farthest part of town? And wouldn't you know it, my insurance deductible is too high, and silly me, I managed to stay out of accidents for the last year (personal record, I'll have you know, jsut ask my front bumper), so it came out of pocket. Great.
Next week's private practice clients better show up, cause momma's got bills to pay.
Yeah, your therapist does think that way.
So that's all I got. A whole lotta wasted money. If I could only find the shit that did this in the first place, I would for sure bring my Isotoners and choke every last dime out of his criminal ass.