Depression is expensive

Describing my past week or so to the therapist…

Therapist: “So…do me a favor and keep an eye on that, because that could be depression creeping back in.”

Me: “Um, nope. No, it’s not, because I JUST paid $85 to see the nice lady with the meds, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m paying it again before my next appointment.”

Time to see if I can “cheap” my way out of a mood disorder!

(I am not doing things I’m supposed to be doing, so I will endeavor to do those things. If it doesn’t help I will certainly go see the nice lady.)

Call Me By Your Name

Jesus Christ, book I’m reading. Just call me out by name next time, damn…

 

(The Year of Less, by Cait Flanders, if you wondered. I wasn’t expecting to feel so personally attacked by a book about saving money and getting rid of clutter.)

All the women, who independent, throw your hands up in frustration…

So, I haven’t mentioned that I’m moving again, probably in about 2 weeks. The rent in my generic, cookie-cutter apartment complex is going up to an amount that’s basically a mortgage. I COULD pay it, but decided to go see what else I could get for that amount or less.

Turns out, I can get the same amount of space but WAY cuter, a more walkable neighborhood, better food options, and closer to everyone I love, for about $400 less a month.

I made lists. I did math. I considered all my life factors and made a grownup decision. When I talked to my therapist, she told me it sounds like the perfect choice for everything I’ve said is important to me, including my budget and mental health.

NO one in my family is happy for me. Everyone got some shit to say.

Today my grandfather offered to let me move in with him, basically rent free, saying my new rent is “still a lot of money,” and my dad chimed in and said, “Yeah, can you imagine putting that amount in the bank every month? After 5 years you’d have, what, $60,000?”

Um…$60,000 for WHAT, exactly? My retirement to an institution because I haven’t had sex in 5 years and have gone insane living with a 90-year-old man who watches home shopping at full volume all day and lectures me about my sodium intake?

It’s a VERY sweet offer, honestly. I’m incredibly grateful. If I am ever in any form of dire life straits, obviously this would be a lifesaver. (Speaking of which, I’m not a total asshole — Granddad doesn’t need live-in help; his health is probably better than mine.)

But I know my family, and this is a goddamn trap. I love my grandfather, but dude IS the patriarchy. I’ve lived alone for 5 years, sir, sometimes unemployed, and the beauty of that particular soul crush is, you learn to fucking handle your bid-ness. I don’t know what kind of helpless, broke-ass princess they think they’ve raised, but I ain’t havin’ it.

I am going to live alone, and walk around naked, and stay up too late, and binge watch My Crazy Ex-Girlfriend on weekends, and hopefully have noisy, raucous sex followed by salt-laden Indian takeout at the first available opportunity.

NOW. If you’ll please excuse me, I gotta go throw my hands up at Destiny’s Child.

Introducing Amazon Prime’s Asshole Plan…

An acquaintance shared this on Facebook:

I only bothered reading the first 20 or so comments, so maybe someone said it beyond that, but I didn’t see anyone suggest maybe, um…NOT lying to your spouse about your spending habits?

One of the comments LEGIT advised using Amazon’s lockers so the husbands wouldn’t see.

*sigh* You go enjoy your very healthy marriage. I’m single, so what the shit do *I* know?

Also, “HA HA HA, we’re women and we love to shop and we do so irresponsibly and then lie about it, HA HA HA FUNNY HA HA.”

(I know, I know — it’s a joke and I’m a buzzkill.)

The new All-Wheel Drive Honda Singleton.

I’ve had a shitty week — just too much stupid all coinciding: relationships, finances, PMS, change in prescription drugs (I don’t think they’re supposed to make you feel worse), and ball-sacky weather. It’s mangling my body, my sleep, and my attitude.

I wish our bodies had more obvious gauges for things. A red light should come on to let you know you need to eat a vegetable because your body requires, like, riboflavin or whatever. Or, *ding ding* “Oh, OK, I have to exercise more and maybe I’ll stop feeling as if I’m constantly dragging my body through sand,” or, *BEEP* “Says here this drug is fucking me up. The gauge just told me to call the doctor and get THIS drug, and it’ll fix you right up.”

Or even a green light: “You’re OK, it’s just the heat. Crank the AC and drink more water.”

We need a more specific human schematic.

We should be able to upgrade our bodies like car models. I’d like the Sport features, please. 

Can my body get nav?

Investment Advice. In My Pants.

A friend and I discuss investment strategy…