Sometimes I Really Feel Like a Girl
I am learning that, at least when it comes to my car, I am all emotion.
A few hours ago, sitting outside a random Culver’s, watching my VW Jetta from a safe 50 feet away, it was all I could do to not start crying in public. While I had been driving home in insanely bad traffic, my car again put out a burning smell. This time, though, there was smoke. I turned on my emergency lights, moved to the right lane and pulled into the nearest parking lot, Culver’s. One phone call to Dad, and I was assured everything would be fine. While I waited, though, a few thoughts went through my mind, thoughts like, Maybe I deserve a milkshake.
I am also learning that, at least when it comes to bad days, I want sugar.
My dad was leaving the house to meet me, so we could caravan to the dealership, hoping, hoping to prove finally that my car really is possessed by some serious problem. So while waiting I wandered into Culver’s, my emotional voice saying, Yes, you should get a milkshake! You’ve had a bad day! It’s only a few dollars! and my rational, PF-brain voice saying, No, no, you cannot have a milkshake! You spent $18 ($18!!!!) dollars on a terrible lunch you ordered out with coworkers, one of whom just turned down the promotion she’d already accepted last week. You blew, what–like 30% of your restaurant budget?–on one bad meal. No, you can’t have a milkshake now!
And I am also learning, at least when it comes to money and life and relationships and work and time management and family, very little is easy.
Filed under budgeting, food, money stories, the everyday |
4 Responses to “Sometimes I Really Feel Like a Girl”
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Is your car ok now?
That sounds really strange - I hope you figure out what’s wrong and doesn’t cost too much to fix…
Thanks, L! Good news: they know what’s wrong!! I’m going to post about it tonight.
I keep a stash of chocolate in the top file drawer of my file cabinet at work. No joke, the only things in that drawer are various kinds of chocolate, bandaids, and “extra strength pain away” (the generic brand of painkillers found in our medicine cabinets at work).
Kim, once again, you prove to me that we are so alike.