With the pinch in our budget, it’s more important than ever that we use rewards points to pay for Tim’s yearly trip up to Washington.
I also want to make sure we get rewards for each and every cent of Tim’s implants. But our current card’s limit is $9,000, which causes a problem.
The first round of oral surgery (installing the posts) will be $7,000. We can charge that and then pay it off immediately.
Three months later, we’ll charge the next $6,000 to get the screws put on. Again, not a problem; just charge and pay.
But his new dentures will be ready within days of that, and those are $11,000. Even if we clear the $6,000, we can’t put it all on the rewards card.
So I took advantage of the free card advice that Holly offers over at Club Thrifty. She recommended Chase Sapphire, which is free for the first year.
We’ll get 50,000 miles once we spend $5,000 in the first three months. That’s $625 of travel credit, which is enough to get Tim’s ticket and maybe a rental car.
The application was easy, and within minutes I was approved… for $20,000.
I felt immediately that there had been a mistake. Clearly, Chase had confused us for adults. Rich ones.
Then I realized that, for all my confused scrambling through life, we are adults. Ones with a high income.
It’s just always startling to remember that we’re grownups. Because it never really feels like it. Even when I argue vehemently that we’re adults, I expect someone to point and call me a liar.
Honestly, a lot of being a grownup feels like tap dancing on a frozen lake — and hearing some ominous cracking sounds.
I’m just waiting for someone to come along and see:
- Our comic book-based collectibles
- The layer of dust… pretty much everywhere
- The clutter… pretty much everywhere
- The lumps of laundry on the floor
- The thin film of makeup dust in the main bathroom’s sink
- (Hopefully, the person will be smart enough to just skip the toilets)
- The numerous pizza boxes in the trash
- The barren state of our cupboards and fridge.
And then promptly snatch away our “Adult” cards. Probably burning the things in front of us.
(Mental note: Get “Adult” cards. Just in case anyone needs proof. Me, for example.)
Let me count the ways
Then I realize that we actually do adult stuff all the time.
- We navigate things like insurance.
- We deal with various specialists.
- We own a house and arrange for the seemingly endless repairs that entails.
- We pay bills — almost always on time, too!
- We refill prescriptions — also almost always on time.
- We have retirement accounts, even if they’re woefully underfunded.
- I go to an annual conference. Somehow I was even on a panel last time.
- We use rewards to book travel.
- We save for things like dental implants.
- We actively try to have a kid.
- We debate whether to keep trying to have a kid.
The verdict is in
So yeah. We’re stupidly, somewhat depressingly, adult.
We’re so adult that we have to consciously choose to be juvenile on our birthdays. Like going to water parks or Dave & Buster’s — but even then I used LivingSocial vouchers and looked for coupons.
And we’re adult enough that, when we do fall down on the job, I’m disappointed in us. Because I know we can do better. And I’m adult enough to realize that there will, alas, be plenty more opportunities to do better.
So I guess if I were a credit card company, I’d give us a large limit too. Hoping that we’re not quite adult enough to be able to pay off what we charge.
Do you really feel like a grownup? If not, when are you startled by your adulthood?
PS. Incidentally, Miranda Marquit and Harland Landes have a podcast on iTunes called Adulting. They’re two very funny, insightful individuals, so I recommend checking it out.