Friday, December 16, 2011

Seven Tired of Being a Grown-Up Takes

--- 1 ---

At some point today, my mom is going to have a big announcement over at her long-neglected blog. Here's a hint:

--- 2 ---

I emailed with the photographer and our CD of photographs got mailed yesterday. There are apparently 330 of them. I'd be excited if I wasn't tired.

--- 3 ---

My anxiety apparently decided to go on honeymoon without me. Or, you know, I wasn't anxious because I did nothing but sit in my apartment and cook. This week I seriously got back into doing stuff, and coincidentally my anxiety levels were extremely high again. Joy.

--- 4 ---

When I bragged about my grocery budget last week, I didn't realize that there were THREE weeks left in December, not two. Then again, I'm counting the groceries we ate during the last few days of November/first few days of December as December groceries, though they should properly be November groceries. That just feels like cheating, to give myself a full budget for a month in which we were only eating our own food for 4 days.

Then again, money just makes my head hurt lately. We have plenty of it, thanks to Scott's clever saving habits, but I don't know how to deal with budgeting. Normally it's easy, you just spend less than you earn. But we're not earning anything. (Prayers for gainful employment would be appreciated, by the way.) So part of me wants to hoard every penny until we're earning money again. The other part of me thinks that we're not so poor and wretched that I can't go $2 over my grocery budget buying chocolate chips so I can make fudge so we can, you know, celebrate the birth of Christ and all.

--- 5 ---

One of the things on my task list has been to give Scott's mom my "I'm an awesome babysitter" spiel so she can send it out to all her homeschool mom friends (I had my mom do a similar thing at the beginning of the summer and it worked pretty well, but now those moms are a 90-minute commute for me) so I can maybe earn a little money without having to get a real job. Composing my spiel should be a 10-minute task, but see the part where I have social anxiety disorder. Sometimes I hate my brain.

Relatedly (in that it is also in the "money woes" and "social anxiety woes" file), I am way overthinking sending thank-you cards to people who gave us money (cash or check) as a wedding gift. I am also way overthinking how to spend said money. I feel like it should be spent on non-essentials (like chocolate chips, except I don't need a truckload of chocolate chips...well, probably not...), because 1) who really wants to hear, "Thank you for the check. We used that money to pay our electric bill." and 2) I am very wary of giving the impression that we need handouts to manage basic life necessities. Because we don't.

--- 6 ---

One thing that is going well: In late May or early June, I started making a tiered skirt for Teresa. As of two days ago, it was still just three loops of fabric (one loop was X inches around, the second was 2X, and the third was 4X), one of which had a straight hem along the "bottom."

Well, now it is pretty much a complete skirt. I should figure out topstitching, but that's not essential (though I suspect an extra row of stitches won't hurt the skirt in terms of sturdiness), and I need to adjust the elastic waist to make sure it's the right size. Fortunately, I should be seeing Teresa on Sunday. I'll just have to tell her she should still act surprised when she gets the skirt on Christmas.

--- 7 ---

Another thing I had on my to-do list for this week (which will get moved to next week, because I don't feel like dealing with it today) was calling the court where we got our marriage license and asking for certified copies so I can change my name. (Apparently changing it on Facebook doesn't make it official.) I did try on...Tuesday, I think...but of course I got stuck in a maze of answering machines and gave up. Maybe I'll make Scott call them. It's his marriage license too, right? Just because he's not the one changing his name doesn't mean he can't do some of the work.

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