A few different goings-on around here, so I figured it was time for a catch-up post. Here’s what’s happening in my life.
A seven-day week
Well, I broke my streak. After three months of having my financial weeks last at least eight days, this time around I ran out of my weekly funds after the seventh day.
The main culprits here were the $90 of medications and $45 utility bill that came out of weekly spending. That’s nearly half my weekly funds right there. But I didn’t help matters by eating fast food twice (at just under $9 a pop) in addition to a seriously expensive trivia night dinner that ran to $24 with tip thanks to my getting dessert.
(Why did I get dessert? Two reasons: One, zepoles are delicious and two, I was starving that day for some reason, wolfing down an entire 12″ pizza by myself and still having the room — and desire — for dessert.)
I blame the food issue on my missing a few days of one of my medications. It was careless of me, but I didn’t check to see whether there were any Wellbutrin refills as my supply dwindled. Alas, I was out of refills at CVS and had to get a prescription transferred, which added two days to the refill process.
In the end, I missed three days of medication, and I think it affected my impulse control. Not to mention my appetite. Besides the pizza/dessert incident, I had a fair amount of junk food those three days.
All of that being said, I’m not beating myself up (too much) about breaking the financial week streak. Two of the prescriptions were one-time expenses for my surgery. Meaning I was able to cover $63 of unexpected expenses plus a utility bill without ending the week early. Which actually makes it sort of a win.
Still, I’m hoping to stretch the next week to at least nine days, which means back to frozen meals for me!
Back in the land of glasses
I have to wear glasses for the last 10 days before the surgery. I dislike wearing them. A lot.
Well, lately I’ve been wearing them quite a bit around the house because, if my eyes are at all tired, I have an easier time reading with my glasses compared to my contacts — and I read for a living, answering customers’ emails.
So I don’t hate my glasses when I’m at home. But I hate wearing them when I’m out and about.
First of all, glasses means I can’t wear my sunglasses, which is no small consideration in the blinding desert sun. (Especially if your eyes are particularly light sensitive the way mine are.) Secondly, and more superficially, I just don’t think they’re terribly flattering. So I’m a bit self-conscious when I’m in them. Third, it’s harder to work out in glasses than in contacts. I’m finally back into a workout routine, and I don’t want it to get derailed.
But it’s a small price to pay for being able to see out of my left eye again. So I’ll suck it up and deal. And count the days until March 12th. Or rather March 13th, at which point the surgery will be in the past. I’m not terribly eager to have a scalpel coming at my eye, so the actual procedure doesn’t fill me with excitement. But having it over and done with and seeing clearly out of my left eye… That sounds great.
Speaking of the surgery, I’m taking three days off to recover. I was able to pick up a couple of days from the other gal at work, so I’ll only be missing a single day.
Unfortunately, that single day comes in a month that was already short: 21 workdays instead of 22. Which means two straight months (February is also a short month, remember) of billing for 20 days instead of the normal 22.
I’ll do my best to keep expenses low and pray nothing pricey pops up to drive up my credit card bill. But if something does… Well, that’s why we build up savings, I suppose: for a safety net in bad months.
One piece of good news is that I found out my co-pay for the procedure is only $100. Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. Under my old marketplace insurance I had a deductible and would have paid $1,700.
Wherein I’m an accidental cougar
Well, maybe not a cougar, but I keep attracting younger guys.
On New Year’s Eve, I met a guy who seemed really cool, so I screwed up my courage and asked for his number. He took mine instead, but he texted the next day. Woot!
Turns out he’s 29. Oops.
We went on a couple of dates before he decided that, given my super-newly divorced status, it’d be better if we were just friends. We’ve been hanging out regularly, so that at least had a happy outcome of my making a new friend.
Then two weeks ago I went to a dance club with some other friends to blow off steam. I gave my number to two different guys. One was 33, the other was… 27. Double oops.
I went on a date with the 33 year old. I had a good time, so if he texts for a second date I’ll take him up on it. The 27 year old turned out to live all the way out in Mesa — a 45-minute drive from me — so nothing’s happening there.
Oh, and then there’s also the 34 year old who I’m supposed to see the next time there’s a house party for this Meetup group. (The parties happen one to two times a month.) This guy also lives far from me, so once again dating isn’t really feasible. But the flirting is flattering.
I’d say I have no idea how or why this is happening, but I suppose I do. The “how” is where I’m hanging out. A dance club tends to attract younger people; the house parties are mainly for people in their 20s and 30s, but I was grandfathered (grandmothered?) in since I joined the group right before turning 40. The “why” is that I’m finally a little lighter and am also wearing lower cut, body-hugging stuff because… Why not?
Still, it’s amusing that I’m doing so well with a younger crowd.
My therapist thinks it’s great and I should just enjoy it. Which I plan to. Assuming I can find someone who lives close to me and who doesn’t try to tell me whether I’m ready to date. Not that the 29 year old didn’t have a point, but I didn’t love the decision being made for me.
How are you guys doing? What’s been newsworthy in your life?