DIY gone bad + Shamrock Shenanigans

This week flew by, but I wish I were happy about it.

It’s not that I didn’t have a blast this week – I did, actually. My friend Bri came and stayed over for two days, and a few of us went out for St. Patty’s armed with ridiculous hats and shamrock tattoos. We went to Toms River, two towns over, and had a rowdy ol’ time at a normally calm and quiet sports bar. Who knew?

Last night I spent my evening outside. God, I love the arrival of spring. Everything about my life gets a little better: the frequency of which I wear sunglasses, the drive home stuck on 206 – with the windows down and some good tunes going, the free time I have on weekends. It seems so much sweeter with the sunshine and warmth.

So, I set out to fix my bike, which has been long overdue for a seat adjustment. I even wound up calling my favorite handyman, the future brother-in-law Mike, for some advice. Unfortunately, by the time he returned my call, my bike seat’s hinge was in 5 pieces and I was running out of sunlight. I can’t reassemble it, so it’s off to the bike shop.

Except getting things fixed costs money. And I’m out of it. Granted, I think I finally have a hang of why I’m running out of it so fast (unexpected expenses, not necessarily me being careless with money. I got billed for medication that I need, so…it is what it is). So now I’m faced with the strong possibility of picking up a weekend job. I’ve already applied to one or two places, but I don’t know what will come of it. I may even consider working weekends somewhere in Point, even if it’s the boardwalk, for just the month. I’m borderline desperate.

It’ll be OK. I have to keep telling myself that.

And perhaps that’s what worries me. This is not the life I imagined. Financially, I make just enough – and that’s really OK with me. But then when emergencies happen, or $100 of work on my car pops up, or Bank of America calls me about my credit card that I owe money on, I’m suddenly flat broke, and “making just enough” is not enough.

There are people out there who focused solely on their financial future and perhaps they’re smirking to themselves right now. I’d like to emphasize that I have never been happier where I am, but I am realizing the ugly necessity that money is becoming as I get older.

I worry about my future. I really worry. Everyone assumes a happily ever after when Chris comes back to France; that he’ll magically make a fortune coming out of school and we’ll buy a perfect place together. It seems to be implied that he’ll make bank and that I’ll just be able to be taken care of based on that. Well, I’ve got news for you: I never want to depend on anyone else. Ever. I have seen too much horror to believe that I’m safe from the ugly implications of when 'for as long as we both shall live' goes wrong.

And lately I question it. I do. It’s not just a long-distance thing, it’s a getting-to-know-someone thing. And I wake up from nightmares I’ve been having lately, and I wonder if this is “one of those days” or something much bigger than I can handle.