that filthy lucre

I hate money.

I don’t think I’ll ever have a problem loving money. Unless I learn that whole love your enemies thing. Seriously. Managing money has never been a strong point of mine. I haven’t balanced my checkbook since I started college. After years of having a savings account, I round out at $25.11. But it’s not like it really matters. That hasn’t messed me up.

A big part of it is that I have jobs that take up so much time and don’t pay. Eventually, it should all catch up once I graduate and go find an actual job, but right now it equals no money. Ever. Last semester I was ok because I had a babysitting job and a cleaning job. I was making anywhere from $30 a week to $80. (Yes, call me rich.) So it was a little tricky at times, but it was better than having nothing. And then my parents were so generous and were spotting me $40 a week. But now, this semester, both of the paying jobs fell through and I’m left with nothing but that $40. I mean, for crying out loud . . . Rachael Ray spends $40 a Day!

Nothing causes me more stress. Not even the whole not dating thing.

Money is the bane of my existence.

Today was awful. No wonder. I just realized it was Friday the 13th. (And I can say that because I haven’t been to bed yet. So it’s still Friday in my book.)

I don’t enjoy crying.

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