This weekend, that old awful rumbling feeling reappeared. That sickening feeling that comes from knowing that some big expenses are looming in the distance. That sinking feeling that has not come along this way in such a...very...long...time.
It all boils down to this: I like having money in the bank, paying my bills, having a solid credit score, etc. (Vanity or security blanket-- perhaps both.)
I recently made the decision to sell my 2nd home. As the realtor and I kept adding to the to-do list this weekend, the calculators in my head were spinning. It's going to take money to do all of this: MY money!
And so today, as I inwardly fretted about all the brown bag lunches and delayed vacation plans, I squeaked with joy as I emptied the trash today. Inside the bag was a hundred dollar bill -- money that had been accidentally swept off the kitchen table, along with a pile of junk mail and receipts.
$100 doesn't go as far as it used to, but for today, it gave me hope that everything is going to be okay.
Be well.
