Why does spending money feel so good, but paying the bills feels almost crippling – like losing a limb? Paying the bills is spending money. It should feel like spending money. I WISH IT FELT GOOD TO PAY THE BILLS.
You know, I’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner for years. YEARS, PEOPLE. Not only is my shampoo my shampoo, but it is also my face wash. Well, for over a month now I haven’t been able to find it, and this has caused me a lot of anxiety and general upsetness. Well, this morning before work I used a new shampoo and conditioner. When I got out of the shower, my hair felt like I had washed it with hair spray and my face felt wicked grody. Seriously. All day I felt gross, because my hair felt heavy and bad. So after work I went to Stop & Shop to see if they had my usual stuff (Garnier Fructis Daily Clean, baby) and they were all out. All they had was the Daily Care 2-in-1 shampoo plus conditioner. Who even uses that?! So I had a little bit of a melt down in the shampoo isle, sitting on the floor. Then I left and went to WalMart. All THEY had was the 2-in-1 shampoo plus conditioner, too. I almost cried. I sat on the floor and just stared at the shelf. It didn’t even have a space for my usual stuff, no tags for it or anything. JUST THE STUPID 2-IN-1. I can’t use that! Isn’t that stuff really bad for your hair and scalp? Shampoo is designed to be washed out. Conditioner is designed to stay in. HOW CAN THE SHAMPOO COME OUT IF IT IS MIXED WITH CONDITIONER!?!!!!? WHY IS MY WORLD ENDING? WHY WOULD THEY TAKE AWAY THE BEST PRODUCT I HAVE EVER USED IN MY HAIR? HOW WILL MY FACE EVER BE CLEAN AGAIN? I can not wash my face with conditioner. So I bought some other line of the Garnier and when I got home, even though I washed my hair this morning with the other crap, I took a shower and washed my hair. I shampoo’d three times to get the other stuff out. It feels better, but not great. [I had a second reason to take a second shower today, and that is because I spent almost an hour cleaning the ice chest outside the store, and there was about a years worth of bird shit all over it. I felt like it was ALL OVER ME. And I was panicky about that, too.] Maybe this whole freaking out because I can’t find my shampoo and conditioner makes me seem crazy. Hell, I know I’m crazy. But should I feel like my world is ending and life will never be the same again over hair products? Because this is how I feel. I’m not a beauty nut. I just like what I like, and I feel like I need this shampoo and conditioner. I need it to function. I was SO off my game today, like my brain had been wired wrong. I said stupid things instead of the right things, and I forgot everything seconds after I heard it (worse than usual). I’m blaming the shampoo crisis. BECAUSE IT IS A CRISIS.
One of my regular customers came in today in short-shorts and a t-shirt, and this happened:
Co-worker: (to customer) Shorts? Really?
Customer: It’s beautiful outside!
Co-worker: It’s like 55 degrees.
Me: She’s obviously a Rhode Island girl, BECAUSE THAT’S HOW WE ROLL.
Customer: It’s definitely spring weather today.
Co-worker: *shakes his head*
Rhode Island girls know what I’m talking about. It’s almost spring. The sun is shining. We’ve been living in 20-30 degree weather for months now. Fifty five degrees is shorts weather. Sixty five degrees is tank top/bathing suit weather. No foolin’.
Daylight Saving Time and Standard Time. I hate going back and forth. I wish we could just pick one, EITHER ONE, and stick with it, don’t you? Discuss.
Have you ever had a really bad neighbor? Not a malicious neighbor who does anything in their power to bother you day after day, but the kind of neighbor who simply does not understand the etiquette of living one floor above or blow you?
I have one. My new upstairs neighbor is a real imbecile. Right now he is rapping so loudly that we can hear it over the television, and my husband is trying to sleep because he has drill in the morning. He has to be up at 0430. The guy must be wearing headphones or something, because I was literally just at his door for four minutes, and he didn’t hear me pounding on it. POUNDING, PEOPLE. Not gentle knocking. Slamming his door with the side of my fist. No response. We’ve had to go up there twice since he moved in last month to ask him to keep it down, and it seems to work for a while, but apparently he is too oblivious to everyone else around him to keep it up for long. At first I wondered if this was his first ever apartment, and I thought maybe he just didn’t know any better. After going up there a few times over different things, I have come to realize that he is simply just dense. He seems nice, but he is dense.
The rapping seems to have stopped for now, and hopefully he is done for the night. *fingers crossed*
The Destroyer and I are probably the best tenants any landlord or neighbor could ask for. We are quiet and considerate. We sweep and shovel the snow from all the walkways, stairs, porch, and driveway. We lay salt, not only on our porch, but on the porch above ours where the ignorant one lives, and also on my downstairs neighbors front stoop and all over the driveway. We shovel the sidewalk, too. We don’t cause trouble. We don’t listen to anything loud after 9PM, we don’t host parties and blast music, and we don’t stomp around as if we lived on a concrete slab. It isn’t hard for us to live relatively quietly. We don’t have to go out of our way to be considerate. It’s just a combination of common courtesy and common sense, which is apparently not too common.
The Destroyer and I both of our downstairs neighbors all put together don’t make half the noise this guy upstairs makes. Alone. He lives alone! He’s got no kids up there and he rarely even has any visitors It is just baffling to me how anyone can be so incredibly dense.
I’m afraid I’m going to end up writing a rather aggressive neighbor note and taping it to his door one of these days, but at this point I seriously wonder if he would even see it. O.O
I’ve always been a fan of getting presents. I mean, who isn’t? But lately (read: the past six months or so) I’ve just gotten really frustrated with how much crap I own. Look, my birthday is coming and I want certain things. I do, I’m not going to lie. But I don’t want anything except for the things I ask for.
Please, for the love of all that is Holy in this world, do not get me something I have not expressed a desire to own. (That dinosaur I’ve wanted since I was in the first grade totally counts, but pretty much nothing else I asked for before I was 25 is a valid gift request anymore. And anyone who buys me more crayons will probably get bludgeoned to death by my husband.)
The Destroyer and I have been looking at apartments, and we think we’ve found one that will work for us. It is right upstairs from Oddie’s boyfriend’s apartment, actually, so she’ll be downstairs often and that’s cool. It isn’t in the best neighborhood and the parking situation will be kind of cramped, but whatevs, it will be our very first apartment.
But this leaves me looking at the mountain of crap I own and wanting to pull out all of my hair. Most of the things I own and don’t want are things I’ve accumulated over more than a decade of Christmas and birthday gifts that I didn’t ask for in the first place but kept anyway because they were gifts and it’s rude to throw something like that away.
I’ve come to a realization, though. It isn’t rude to get rid of something you don’t want, not when you’ve expressed time and time again that you don’t want ANYTHING EXCEPT WHAT YOU’VE ASKED FOR. It isn’t the thought that counts, because when I get something I don’t want that will just take up unnecessary space, I shouldn’t feel obligated to keep said object(s) just because someone thought of me and felt like they should get me something. It is more rude to me, more offensive to me, to receive something I don’t want than to get nothing. It’s rude to get me something and expect me to like whatever it is you give me just because you spent money on it. I’m not a child anymore. I’m not obligated to be thankful for every single thing anyone ever buys me. Because it isn’t about getting things anymore. It hasn’t been about getting things since I was a child. It’s just rude to buy something for someone and expect them to like it and keep it when they haven’t expressed any interest in it whatsoever.
Seriously, get me nothing instead if you’re just buying me something for the sake of having bought me something. I understand, people in my life, that my birthday is a momentous occasion to be celebrated by all. I know and accept this, and I welcome all of the Happy Birthday exclamations I will be receiving in a little over two months time. But unless I’ve said “I want this thing” or “I really wish I owned that thing”, please please please please please don’t buy me something that you’ve ‘found’ ‘for me’. Because I don’t want it. I 100% don’t want it.
I’m going to be spending a lot of time going through the things I currently own and throwing shit away. (Sorry about the potty mouth, Padu.) I’m just going to do it. I will keep my photo albums and scrap books and that Chemistry notebook from when I was in 11th grade (dude, I totes loved Chemistry class) because they’re things that have meaning to me.
That crazy board game no one ever heard of before you produced it out of some obscure yard sale for my 19th birthday? That hideous shirt you picked out last year because YOU would wear it? Those knickknacks I never liked and packed away instead of thew away because I didn’t want to offend someone? Yeah, all that shit and more is getting thrown out.
This in no way means that I don’t love and appreciate my friends and family. It just means that I don’t want to have a lot of stuff. I don’t want to tote around so much packed baggage when my husband and I are going to be accumulating and creating more important things.
I’ve moved so many times in my adult life. I moved to South Carolina, and then I moved back to RI. I moved out of my childhood home and in with S and John, and then I moved to Mississippi. Then I moved back to RI from Mississippi. I’m about to move again, this time into our very-first-grown-up-on-our-own apartment. There are boxes I’ve been taking with me on every move, boxes that never got unpacked. Ever. I need to go through these things, because if something has been in a box for the past ten years then I probably don’t need it!
That’s my chore for today: Start exploring the years of life I’ve been dragging from place to place, and begin throwing things away. I finally began the after Christmas purge on Sunday after work (don’t judge). I have a sneaking suspicion that once I clear out the things I don’t want in my life it will make me feel lighter, more buoyant, like when I empty my wallet and purse of receipts and why-on-God’s-green-Earth-do-I-have-so-much-shit-in-here, I feel like I’ve just sprouted wings and can do so much more than I ever did before.