rebooting is cool, right?

everyone in hollywood is rebooting everything they can now days.

everything is being refreshed, reworked. newer script, better production, bigger budgets.

the stories you love, ENHANCED!

so. basically. i'm super trendy.

reboot: she was a single mom, struggling to get by, stressed out raising teenagers in an ever changing world. she was doing all the things she was "supposed" to do, NOW she's doing the things she WANTS to do.

chaos! drama! tears! painfully deep insights you wish you could pretend you didn't notice! emotional eating to the max! teenage eye rolling SO EXTREME you'll swear his eyes will get stuck in his head!

rated R for language.



well, it's all done. the house has sold, passed inspection, met appraisal value, and it's all over but the signing. 

the apartment is secured, deposit paid, rental insurance acquired.

boxes are packed, furniture sold/given away, rental truck reserved.

HERE WE GO: REBOOT TIME.

the teenager said about six times last night "I can't wait to see the new apartment!"

he's excited. i'm nervous. and sad. and...relieved?

is that the right word?

it's a strange moment for me. moving is nothing new. i've moved 14 times since being out on my own. but this is the longest we've ever stayed anywhere- 6 years. and we *thought* we'd be there forever. our house. OURS. owned outright.

but it just isn't us.

the teenager surprised me the other night- "i'd move all the time if we could."

gypsy blood runs deep.

trust kid- if moving wasn't such a pain in the ass, if jobs weren't required for living, if i could get over my emotional attachment to ridiculously large furniture, i'd move all the time.

living in an airstream and just...going...sounds AMAZING. just GO. throw a dart at a map. it hold a certain appeal for sure.

i'm trying to take the time in all the chaos to appreciate the house for what it's been. i did a final firepit in the back yard this weekend with friends and after everyone left, i took a moment to sit on the back deck and just...look. look at what i'd created, remember the last summer of book club, bbq's, conversations, dinners alfresco with the kiddo. i took the time to appreciate the work that got it to the point of being a place i enjoyed. the twinkle lights, the fire pit area, the calm feeling sitting out there provided. and i KNOW, i know that's not gone forever. i can recreate that wherever i go. yes, it will be smaller, but i can still create a space that has the same feeling, the lights, the calm. it won't be the EXACT SAME, but that's ok.

i took time last night to really appreciate- it's been a good house, despite all the stress and heartache. all the projects that went sideways, all the small things that have been a thorn in my side, all the project that never got started...it was still a damn good house. it was everything i could have ever picked. covered front porch, big back deck, fenced yards, old school architecture, the turret. it is everything. EVERYTHING i could have picked for a house. and it was mine. i got a chance to try it.

remember the honda element? same thing. the car i wanted. i did my research, i picked it out. it was mine. i got a chance to try it.

in the end, neither worked for me, and that's ok. they served their purpose. my dad provided me a chance to TRY. how many people can say that?

i've been through...well...a few emotions. this is the house my dad gave me. this is what i was "supposed" to do. this was the "correct" step. the "adult" decision.

i've battled letting that go. i've battled the guilt and the feelings of failure.

IT'S OK. i didn't fail. i tried. it didn't work for me. that's not a failure. that's learning. that's growing. that's experience. none of that is failure. my dad wouldn't be ashamed or mad. he knew i was a quirky duck. he knew i didn't fit the "supposed to" mold. that's why my brother exists. he's the round peg in the round hole. he knew what career he wanted when he was a kid. he's had his future planned since...forever. he's happy and content in a planned, routine life, structured.

i never fit that. dad wanted me to be a nurse. i can't handle blood. injuries gross me out. do. not. talk to me about surgery unless you want to see what i had for breakfast.

dad wanted me to settle down and have a good corporate career. i don't do well as a cog in a machine. i like a job where i make a difference.

dad was annoyed by tattoos and colored hair.

but, at the end of all of it, he loved me, he respected me decisions, he learned to trust my abilities. he was always nervous seeing what new apartment i had rented, but always came back a few weeks later proud and impressed by how i could make any place home. i scared him, but i think it was more as a parent not wanting harm for his daughter than actual fear of what would happen.

i know right now he'd be shaking his head and asking WHY???? and ARE YOU SURE?? a hundred times, but he'd also be there to help pack the truck and cursing a blue streak helping me assemble new furniture.

*side note* hey dad, i can afford to buy REAL furniture that doesn't need assembled now. no more impossible instruction books and alan wrenches and scraped knuckles.

well...mostly...there may be a few things still in my future...i'll keep my collection of alan wrenches just in case.



SO. here we go. the truck comes tomorrow. well, i go pick up the truck tomorrow.

everything is pared down, packed, ready to go.

here's to the next chapeter.

where did alice go when she left wonderland?

wherever. the. fuck. she. wanted.

third time's the charm

well, here it is almost february and i'm still trying to recover from the holidays.

i've been in hiding since november-ish and after recently peeking my head out a bit i'm starting to think long term hiding has some serious perks.

the election, of course, was...well...a shit show. i made the choice to step away from several of my core groups as a result. i'm not a political person. i am not nearly educated enough to know the nitty gritty of the actual policies and practices, and i'm not nearly hard line enough one side or the other to be completely unsettled by the results. as the election and the results have continued (and will for some time) to be the primary focus for the world at large, from both directions, i will be hiding in my corner trying to understand the best i can and rewatching old seasons of friends and roseanne and trying to sort out the inner workings of my personal bubble.

but one event alone was not enough to derail the trainwreck of the holiday season. good old fashioned family shit decided to add to the merriment, as is usual for the holidays.

it's been a hard few months. a really hard few months. there's been a hard learning curve, some pretty heavy introspection, and, as a result, some major life changes are happening.

a brief overview: 13 year olds are very impressionable and not equipped with the best communication tools, 18 year olds are angry and use every tool at their disposal to wreak as much havoc and pain as possible, and 60+ year olds are delusional, destructive, and need to just disappear already.

BUT, even in the worst of times, there's an opportunity to learn and grow. and i'm trying. i know it sounds cliche, but damn, weed makes you have some deep thoughts.

i've been attending meditation classes since...i think around september, working through a book learning how to have better compassion for myself and others. between some great strains of 420, some good meditation/teaching, and actually allowing myself (forcing myself) to look at things instead of just stuffing them down inside to stay in survivor mode there's been some really key things that have opened up for me:

teen parenting SUCKS. i did it. i survived. but DAAAAAMN. all the things they prepare you for: being broke, being a statistic, higher probability of minimum wage jobs, higher probability of being on government assistance, higher probability of...fill in the blank. they give you all the statistics. they tell you how hard it will be. they prepare you for dealing with a crying baby and a toddler.

what they DON'T tell you is how to learn how to make mistakes with someone ALWAYS watching. i didn't get my 20's to screw up financially and figure out how to bail myself out without it affecting anyone. if i screwed up financially (which i did, repeatedly) it affected 2 other people. if i miscalculated my checkbook ledger i had to worry about feeding 2 other people until it could get straightened out. if i wanted a night out, i had to budget how it would affect daycare and buying shoes. my kids have had to hear "we can't afford..." more times than any kid should. they've been with me in grocery stores and restaurants when my card didn't go through. they've learned to check your balance before you grocery shop. granted, not all BAD lessons, but not something that kids need to be worrying about.

i didn't get the crappy roommate time in college to learn how to live with someone. i didn't get the wandering from job to job time. i didn't get the crappy relationships, watching friends settle down, wedding season chaos, ANY of the crap you've seen a million times in a million different sitcoms. i had to consider the repercussions of everything. I had to watch for the ripple effect. i made PLENTY of 20-something mistakes. PLENTY of them. but, for me, they weren't just mistakes. they were memories for my kids. they were moments emblazoned into little minds and cemented as mistakes and flaws. my oldest son has a devastatingly low opinion of me, i think partly because he remembers it ALL. he remembers my marriage and divorce. he remembers moving all the time. he remembers all my mistakes and hates me for them. and i know part of that will assuage with time as he grows and makes his own mistakes, but for right now they're weapons. sharp, heavy, devastating weapons.

the hardest part for me is that i'm still making mistakes. i'm still learning. i'm still trying like fuck to figure out this parenting thing. but i don't have anyone to look to for how they did it. i don't have anyone to ask how they handled situations. i don't have parents or grandparents or friends with older kids. the friends i have with similar aged kids are in the same boat trying to figure things out too. and i know there aren't "ANSWERS" to parenting. but there's people that have been through it before. there's people that remember better what it was like for them (i've blocked out probably 75% of my childhood).

and in my learning, and in my mistakes, i'm doing what i can to correct what's happened and prevent what i can going forward.

one of the biggest things that came out of the disaster that was this holiday season was some GREAT (hard) conversations with my 13 year old. we've come up with several things that need worked on. we're learning better ways to talk to each other and be heard. we're working on sorting through actual memories vs things people have told him/are telling him.

one of the biggest things that came out of this is that he doesn't feel safe in our home. there was a litany of reasons, some reasonable, some irrational, but at the end of the day, he doesn't feel safe and that is a HUGE concern. part of it is basic neurosis (which he gets 100% from me): worrying about if there's a fire- there's only one way out: down the stairs. it's like he crawled inside my mind (or maybe i said something once that he heard and hung onto). one of the few things i DO remember from my childhood is laying in bed at night counting the time between the blinks on the smoke detectors. i used to count the flashes and plan over and over and over what i would do if there were a fire, what i would grab, how i would get out. this is, to this day, the reason i will never, ever, no matter what, sleep naked. i am 100% convinced that the ONE TIME i sleep naked the house will burn and i'll be in the streets naked AND homeless. i still lay awake at night and think of how much time i would have to wake up the teenager, how many things i could grab, what's important enough or not to risk grabbing, and how to get outside.

let's not even go into how much of a living nightmare it was to have my dad die in a house fire.

so, i get it. i worry about if someone breaks into the house how would we get away, how would i stop them and protect the kiddo. i worry about...fuck...you name it, i've worried about it.

so, I GET IT. and i thought it was just me. and i can deal with things when it's just me. but when it's my kid? game changer.

so, he finally tells me he feels unsafe in out house.

game changer.

so. time to find a solution: we're selling the house and finding a better, safer feeling place to live.

we've picked out a VERY nice apartment in the valley- closer to work for me, better high school for the kid, all the amenities that you could want, and SAFER. one floor, better exits, better security, newer construction...the list goes on.

we list the house in a week, the last month has been a process of cleaning/purging/repairing/getting ready.

third time's the charm, right?

and, for those playing along at home, yes, i've attempted this before and failed MISERABLY. i've taken that into heavy consideration, and, with the great help of some good 420 and a few quiet evening, have figured out a few things: last time we weren't ready. we didn't have a reason. we didn't have a plan. i didn't get the idea that i don't need to be friends with the realtor, it's a professional relationship. i wanted an ally, someone that was on my side. sure, that would be GREAT, but this is their JOB. this isn't coffee time with a BFF, this is a business transaction. also, they don't need to like my house AS IT IS. sure, it's hard when people look around and criticize paint colors, when they tell me my taste is too eclectic (weird) to sell the house, when they nitpick all the flaws that trust, i'm WELL aware of. they're job is to make it as appealing to as many people as possible. whomever buys it isn't going to live with me. they're not going to keep the same decor. they're not going to get why i think a shower curtain works in a livingroom. and it doesn't matter.

i don't know if the realtor didn't explain it well to me before or if i just didn't listen, but I GET IT NOW. i'm not showing MY house to people, i'm showing A house to people. yeah, a few things up on the walls to make it feel like a HOME are nice, all my knick-knacks and clutter? not so much.

also? this is probably the first time i've really had the time to fully consider a move. we're not moving because we HAVE to. any deadlines are completely mine. i don't have a landlord going into default kicking me out. i don't have a lease expiring, i don't have any of the reasons that we've moved before.

this time WE CHOOSE. we were able to take time, decide what we want in a new place, research, and really, really be picky. i didn't have to take the first thing i found in our price range and make it work. i didn't have to find the only thing affordable in a college town on a single budget. i didn't have to settle in any way. and i'll tell you what, really getting to pick, with no limits on it? WHOLE DIFFERENT EXPERIENCE. also? apartments now are WAY nicer than the last time we looked. the new concept of "communities" is actually really amazing. common spaces, shared gardens, places you can have guests over, allowing painting and decorating and making it your own home...things have really changed. it's pretty amazing.

this is also the first time we haven't been just shoving things in boxes. i'm taking my time really thinning out, deciding what goes and what goes away. i know the floor plan of the new place, the measurements, so i'm able to decorate in my brain and know what will fit and what will make clutter. i'm able to go through cabinets, get rid of things we haven't touched since we moved into this house. i'm able to catalog (dude, there's some AMAZING smart phone apps for cataloging movies and books- do it, even if you're not moving!).

we have been in control of this move from the very first minute. that's a whole new experience for me. deciding IF we wanted to move, picking out where, picking out when...it's been really healthy and therapeutic in so many ways.

i realized the other night that i never really took buying the house and moving seriously before. to me, buying a house was exactly the same as renting an apartment. i looked around, found one that would work that we could afford, signed a few papers, and moved in. i didn't have to do the mortgage, the inspections, the closing issues. i just handed over a check and they handed me keys. that was literally it. and as i've said before, i didn't go into buying a house for the right reasons. i bought it because i was "supposed" to. this time i'm doing the process because we WANT to. that's a whole different ball of wax.

i feel prepared this time. i know this is for sure. this is happening. this is intentional, thought out, planned.

it's a big change. something good is coming out of a LOT of bad. i'm kind of getting to hit the reset button on losing my dad. and i am eternally grateful for the opportunity. i'm getting the chance to make better decisions with what his death entrusted to me. i have better tools for processing all the emotions and experiences. i have a little more distance from the initial ground zero, better perspective.

so.

here we go.

third time's the charm.

*pushing button*

525,600

"Last Published on March 31."

i know,  so much for the every week goal. THANKS FOR THE GUILT TRIP GOOGLE.

ANYWAY.

here i am. i know it's been over a month. i've had tons to say but not really sure how or how much (i know, ME) to say.

then i woke up this morning and started reading through my twitter feed and realized some amazingly talented friends won the 50 hour film slam last night (exactly like it sounds- they have 50 hours to make a short film, then they announce a winner a few months later).

HOLY CRAP. it's 50 hour slam time again?

that means it's been a year since i started working at the magazine. which got me thinking about how much can happen in a year.

and then i was blown away by the universe. again.

here's a quick recap of the last few years:

this summer it will be 4 years since my son lost his step mother and baby brother in child birth.

this fall it will be 4 years since i lost my brother to suicide.

august it will be 3 years since i lost my dad and step mom to a house fire.

this month it's 2 years since i bought my house: Almost Wonderland.

january it was 2 years since i left the corporate world.

march it was a year that i had been back to work.

this time last year i was attending my first events and getting interview for the magazine.

and this year: my house is for sale, i've left the magazine, i'm no longer at any of my jobs (next friday is my last day) and everything is changing. again.


it continues to be a wild ride.

so yeah- things are changing again. i'm still scared of change- the unknown is always going to be a mix of terror and excitement i think. but it's also really good. i know that things are headed in a good direction- too many things have clicked into place for it not to be the right steps for me.

i have to say- the last year has been a really interesting learning curve most of all. i've learned how to let go of some of my biggest issues, guilt, fear- things that were tying me down and i didn't realize it.

after losing my dad i bought the car i had wanted for YEARS. my dream car. the one i would get if i won the lottery. THAT car. my little element. then i realized it wasn't all i hoped it would be.

i never really wanted to buy a house, but IF i did, it needed to have all these things- a front porch, a big back deck. a fenced yard for the kids, older style, not a cookie cutter, trees, space for friends. Almost Wonderland is every. single. thing. i could have ever wanted in a house. and now that i've had it i realize as much as i love it, it's still not for me.


it's an interesting moment when you have everything you ever thought you could dream of and you look at it all and say: meh.

not that i don't appreciate every thing i have. not that i don't love that i have a house and a car. i'm not playing the part of spoiled rich bitch here.

i'm just realizing- hell, i don't know the right way to say it. i'm realizing that there's more to life than having everything you ever thought you wanted. things are just things.

not gonna lie- having things is nice. but at the end of the day- they're just things.

here's what else has happened over the last few years:

my oldest sons dad and i were able to REALLY draw together as a parenting team. it took some really shitty shit on both sides but now we're in this great place of working together as a team, even from across the state. we both realize how much the other has been through and how much family means more than ever and how important it is for our son to get that.

i've found out time and again who real friends are. i have people that disappeared when the money disappeared. i have people that could give a rats ass if there ever was or ever will be money again. i have some of the truest, hard core friends now that anyone could ever ask for. i know when the shit hits the fan that i have a LIST of people i can call for help and support. this last week was a pretty shitty one (more on that in a minute) and i was able to think of three people INSTANTLY that i could call for help or just to listen. that is a truly rare and beautiful thing. i have people i can talk over ANY subject with- and trust me when i say we've covered some very interesting topics.

i've learned to appreciate and accept myself in the last few months.

that's possibly been the biggest thing. i've learned to let go of why i'm not good enough for my family. i've learned to not feel like i'm not good enough for my family. i've learned that i am good and beautiful and lovable JUST AS I AM, flaws and all. i've learned the difference between my things that i can work on and improve and OTHER PEOPLE's issues that are out of my control and that i can't fix or change. hell, there's several blog posts on all that.

this is all an obnoxiously long story to get to this last week-

i was asked a few weeks ago to take over my boyfriends store. it's a second hand furniture store/consignment shop. i wanted to jump instantly and take it. a chance to try out every upcycle project i've ever considered and pinned on pinterest. a chance to be my own boss and be the only one to answer to. a chance to let my creative side have free reign moving things around and arranging furniture. back working with customers again, away from a desk. BUT- how do you leave secure jobs? steady paychecks?

to tie over, i asked a good friend of mine that needed work if she wanted to work while i figured things out. that made it through the last few weeks, but she is going back to school in just a few weeks, so something had to be done.

OK UNIVERSE: i get it. i have to make a decision.

fuck.

ok. so the monday/thursday job was not the greatest on hours- i was working myself out of time every week. BUT, i loved the people there and they had treated me really great the whole time i was there- from day one.

the tues/weds/fri job was for sure locked in hours, always things to do, but a much more stressful not healthy for me environment.

fuck.

ok. here's the deal universe: if i'm going to leave the steady pay/less healthy job i'm  going to need a little help. some kind of a cushion while i'm adjusting to commission only at the furniture. help me out.

not even four hours later i got a call from my old corporate job: by the way-  you still have money in your pension account.

*blink blink*

a sizeable amount of money. like enough to cover at least 3 months of bills while i wait for the house to sell and to see how the furniture store goes.

wow universe. that was fast.

OK THEN.

so on tuesday i gave two weeks notice.

on thursday i got laid off from the other job.

umm...universe? WHAT THE HELL?

i mean...really? why did i bother making a decision if this was going to happen? is this some kind of joke?

i went through an expected freak out. called up some friends. vented. yeah- i still had the pension cushion, but without a steady paycheck to supplement things...well...wow. now what?

i spent the majority of thursday coming to terms with things. crunching numbers, realizing it would still be ok, that this obviously meant i wasn't supposed to be at either job any longer, there's something bigger ready for me.

ok universe. i get it. i trust that everything is working this way for a reason.

then i got home thursday night.

that pension account?

turns out the corporate world doesn't really know how to do math.

the amount they initially told me was waiting was off. BY A LOT.

as in DOUBLE.

in the good way.

the cushion i was making these decisions on: DOUBLED. and? would be available a month earlier than they initially told me.

at this point i don't have any idea what the universe has in store for me, but i know it's BIG. and i know that things working out like this doesn't just happen. this is the right move. i feel like the stars are lining up, the winds are changing, whatever silly analogy you want to throw at it. things are falling into place, and this is me, stepping out. trusting that.

looking back over the last year and all that's changed- over the last 4 years and how much we've been through- all the high and low points, all the good days and bad days-

i'm excited to see what the next year brings.

i'm ready for it.

and i know, fuck, this is a hard sentence to type.

i know i have my dad's support.

after 3 years and never seeing his name anywhere- i've seen his name several times in the last few weeks. it's popped up in the strangest places. he's still here. he's not mad at me for selling the house. he's supporting my changes. he's still watching out for me.

so.  that's something.

dirty little secret

so. last week my big spawn started talking about moving in with his dad for high school again. that's a whole other post in itself.

so many questions from that including: would let my son just move across the state without me? what's keeping me here? there's a million more questions (and no answers) that have been swirling around in my head since then, but the biggest thing: WHAT IF I SOLD THE HOUSE AND MOVED? has been sticking with me.

the more i think about it, the more split i am on the decision. here's the problem: i LOVE my house, but i HATE owning it.

i LOVE my house. i love the tourett, i love the front porch. i love having a big lawn for bbqs with a hammock and a fire pit. i love the roses and the flowers and the fruit trees. i love that all my furniture fit perfectly when i bought it. i love that i picked the colors and painted every wall. i love the possibilities and ideas i have for it. i love it for what it could be. i love that i was able to try and say i did it. i owned a house free and clear.

aside from that: i hate owning a house.

the all american dream- a piece of land to call your own. living rent free. something you can fix up and do whatever you want it it.

i have that. and i HATE it.

i HATE property taxes. i have yet to learn to save up to pay them. technically i should be paying myself a little "rent" every month and setting it aside for these. yeah. that's happened. generally i get to april and october and let out a really loud FUCK. how the hell am i going to pay this bill? ok. so all one year. but still. it's almost april. and guess what i didn't do. again. shitballs.

maybe it's because i took on too many projects with too many assholes "helping" me when i moved in. the french doors that "friends" helped me install? still not finished and look like shit.

the hardwood floors that i paid a "friend" of the family to refinish? he used possibly the shittiest finish EVER on them, they're already scratched to hell, he never finished any of the thresholds and didn't reinstalled the molding and 3/4 round (and he's supposedly a professional hardwood floor guy).

the back deck that "friends" helped me redo? the whole thing was done wrong and needs to be taken completely apart and redone.

the kitchen is missing kick boards under the cabinets, the exterior needs repainted, the bathroom needs finished, the basement window needs replaced, the lawn is in desperate need of massive help, the office walls need cornered and textured, the garage door doesn't lock...the list is fucking endless. not to mention the fun little non-toxic whatever that showed up on the walls this year requiring a borax bath every few weeks.

there's just this endless list of shit that needs done...not to mention the stuff from the inspection report when i BOUGHT the damn thing that never got fixed to begin with.

i think possibly the most fucking frustrating part of the whole damn things is yes, i own my home, but i'm still living paycheck to paycheck, can't afford to fix any of the shit, and can't afford to take out a mortgage TO fix any of the shit. my credit took a dive, my bank account went from comfortable five year cushion to cobwebs and i don't feel like i have much to show for it. i never wanted to own a home, it was never on my bucket list. i simply thought i should do something wise with the money that showed up.

and now i have this fucking albatross around my neck that isn't drowning me quite yet, but it also isn't getting me anywhere.

even if it was all fixed. if i had a magic wand to make it all exactly like it is in my head- the whole fix-it list done, all the built in bookshelves installed, all the walls refinished with sheet rock instead of lathe and plaster, all the outlets updated, the knocking out and moving walls redone, the basement finished, the garage rebuilt into a studio, the lawn re-landscaped with a sprinkler system installed...even if all of it was magically done and it was the perfect vision in my head- i'm still STUCK.

i feel trapped now, stuck. that's the worst of it. i don't remember even feeling this stuck when i was locked into a corporate job. granted, when i was corporate i changed locations every few years with it- going to college, back home, to corporate, then out. and in that same time span i moved houses several (13) different times.

i don't like staying put. i don't like feeling locked in. i don't like any of it. i have too much gypsy in me- whether or not i actually do go anywhere, i can't stand having the option missing. maybe i haven't found my roots yet or maybe i'm more of a potted plant.

and i'll gladly admit: i loved having a manager or landlord to call when shit broke. i liked not worrying about property taxes and home owners insurance and water heater repairs. i liked being able to find a new place at the end of a lease if i wanted. i liked change and new and different. sure the actual moving was never fun. but setting up a new house, making it MINE was always fun. i liked the challenge of making things fit in different apartments, making the blank white walls feel like home.

i don't necessarily miss sharing walls with strangers, but is it really much different than sharing a fence line with strangers? i HATE my neighbors now more than i have at pretty much any other place i've lived.

so. i guess what i've decided is that whether i move across the state or across the city, i'm done being a home owner. i want to go back to someone else dealing with the headaches. i want to go back to affordable heating bills and included water/sewer/garbage. i want something new and different again.

i don't know how i'll say goodbye to this house. it's my almost wonderland. it's everything i ever wanted in a house. it's the house that my dad was finally able to buy me like he always wanted. and i wish i could just put down roots and be comfortable in one spot forever, but it's just not me.

 

 

Almost Wonderland

the stupid tax

i'm not the smartest of people. i don't mean that in a mean, self destructive way. i mean that in a "REALLY? DID I JUST DO THAT AGAIN?" kind of way. not always the sharpest crayon in the box, but damn it, i'm still fucking pretty!

the corporate world has a nifty thing built into it that i like to call the "stupid tax." it's also called the "too poor to be poor" tax, the "broke ass bitch" tax, and a million other things. these taxes come in the form of bank over draft fees, credit card over limit fees, late fees, disconnect/reconnect fees...you get the general idea.

i shudder to think how much money i've wasted on the "stupid tax" over the years. i would probably throw up if i ever saw the actual number in print in front of me.

i discovered another fee tonight- the READ THE FUCKING PAPERWORK YOU DUMBASS fee. this one is to the tune of over a thousand dollars. FUCK ME SIDEWAYS.

see. i bought a house last year. nifty and all, but there's this thing called property taxes- i ASSumed that all the taxes were paid for the year when i bought the house. i didn't receive a bill in the mail last year, so i didn't pay attention to it. i've never owned a house before. i've never had a mortgage. i've never had anything besides rent. property taxes are a new world for me. and i'm a fucking idiot. not only were the second half of last years taxes NOT paid, i didn't plan ahead to pay the ones for this year. WELL- not totally true. yes, i didn't plan ahead, but i also made the mistake of dumping ALL my savings into working on the house and didn't leave any set aside for the taxes. this year has been an adventure with jobs and paychecks and covering my ass- more than slightly humiliating to be broke as fuck but own my house and car outright. not sure how that works, but there's pretty but not sharp crayon thing kicking in again. so. i've been slightly back-burner stressed out all year about my property taxes. didn't pay the first half, and here it is october and the second half is due. FUCK ME RUNNING. i'm just now getting leveled out on paychecks and bills and things and not only do i owe property taxes for this year, i'm a fucking idiot that didn't read the paperwork and i owe the property taxes for LAST year (the second half) as well.

*sigh*

 somewhere out there my dad is shaking his head at me. and bailing my ass out one more time. somehow, some way a check came in the mail today. one more pay out from my dad's estate. it's been over two years. i have no fucking clue where this last check came from. and wouldn't you know it, it's enough to cover my property taxes.

 it's enough to make a girl cry while laughing while missing the fuck out of her daddy.

32 damn years old enough to know better, he's been gone 2 years, and he's still being patient and teaching me.

SO. i'm writing a fucking huge check to the county tomorrow and writing another check to my self to start saving up for NEXT year's taxes. here's what i've learned: even when you don't have rent or mortgage payments, you still have to pay yourself. and probably not just for property taxes. if i had any sense about me, there would be a house fund for when things eventually hit the fan like they do in every house- water heaters, roofing, electrical, etc.

thank you dad, for bailing me out once again. i'm still learning.