Posts Tagged ‘bicycle tire’

Note To Self

February 15, 2014

Do not, ever again, answer the door before breakfast.

Ever.

I was in the process of making breakfast this morning, flouncing about in my red Norma Kamali bubble dress (thank you again Wasteland, what an awesome score) having just dried my hair, the Universe giving me a good hair day, after getting out of a good hot shower, got the laundry going and I got a date with my friend to have lunch in the Mission, I was feeling pretty perky, damn perky, if I do say so myself.

Until I got sucker punched.

That’s what it felt like.

The landlord handed be a folded bill for the utilities.

I could feel myself getting a little tense, especially on the heels of the days stretching ahead of me with no work happening, and I retreated to my little kitchen nook to stir the oatmeal and pour the hot water over the coffee grounds.

I don’t even know what my landlord was saying, it was all a roar in my ears, something about taking some time to pay it off, I had opened it and sort of blanked out immediately, it was a lot, a lot more than I thought it was going to be and even without seeing a grand total I could tell it was a lot.

Tears welled up, my perfect hair a sheaf of shame in my face, I really don’t want to talk about this right now and don’t worry, I’ll pay it today, I don’t want it hanging over my head.

The timing, well, it was what it was.

But no, I was not given a sheaf of roses on Valentines Day, just a bill for $450.

Good fucking grief.

I went back to stirring the oatmeal, made some lame ass excuse to the landlord about not really being able to talk about anything at the moment and tried to not hyperventilate before I had my coffee, I prefer my coffee with almond milk, not a small paper bag to breathe heavy into.

Never, I repeat, open the door before you have had your morning coffee.

Just don’t do it.

There’s not going to be a sweet man there with a kiss, there is no Candy Gram, no, motherfuckers, it’s the PG&E bill and it has your name written all over it.

I finished the oatmeal, turned off the burner, stumbled around trying to breath and calm down.

How am I going to put the down payment down on the scooter?

Fuck.

ARGH.

There goes the money for the plane ticket to Wisconsin.

God damn it.

Really?

Today?

On Valentines Day?

The hurt teen age girl in me stomped her foot, every body else is getting flowers and I am getting a bill.

FUCK YOU GOD.

I hollered.

I mean I really hollered.

I was seeing red.

And it was not the red of my pretty dress.

I screamed so loud I sort of hurt my throat.

Nix that.

I did hurt my throat.

Ugh.

I knew what I needed to do and it was pause and reset.

I have a nice day a head of me, I have wonderful things to do, I am not going to let this ruin my day.  I am not.

I ate my breakfast.

I drank my coffee.

I made another cup.

I wrote.

A lot.

Oh I wrote.

I called some one and read what I wrote in between crying.

Then I called some one who I knew was having a hard time and left a sweet message.

I mean, I was amazed at the calmness in my voice and the clarity of thought, who’s this person, I sort of wondered inside my brain, with this calm, clear voice and gentle ways and can I have her?

I went back inside.

I sat down and wrote the check.

I stuck the bill in my receipt jar in my cupboard and looked at the check.

Go pay it.

Breathe.

You have enough.

Go.

I balanced my check book and stood up and went and paid the bill.

I still felt pretty wobbly and upset.

I am going to ask that I get the bill once a month so that I don’t vomit all over myself when I see the end result of three months of back utilities.  I am sure there won’t be a problem.

My friend I had lunch with said you could take the time to pay it off in installments.

But you know what?

I can’t.

I can’t bear having the debt and what is the point anyhow?

The utilities are going to continue to need to be paid.

I will have to go talk to my land lord and ask for what I need and leave it alone after that.

Tomorrow.

After I have had breakfast and coffee and have had my normal morning ritual of reading and writing and asking for guidance.

Ironic.

Or.

Serendipitous.

I dont’ know, funny, with a small amount of perspective, it was just the push I needed to be willing to take some actions in regards to my financial situation and how I earn my money.

I have things to do.

Grateful for that.

Pain, it really is such a motivator for me.

One day I wish to reach for the humility before it’s being passed to me like a hot gravy boat in an elderly man’s shaking hands, spilling hot into my outstretched hands.

I will reach for it before the pain comes.

One day.

Perhaps.

Until then, well, even I can see how motivating today’s situation was, it lit a fire under my ass and I know what I need to do next to help further myself and my financial situation.

Then I enjoyed lunch.

Spending sweet time with my friend, getting to enjoy a rare lunch date on a Friday afternoon in the Mission.  After which I got my nails done and painted all sassy and red to match my dress.  Then off to the shop to pick up my Gatorskin.

No that’s not a sex shop I went to.

I dropped my bike off at the shop and got a new tire–Gatorskin–puncture resistant for the front wheel.  No more flat tires thank you.

Then off to the massage I had booked for the early evening.

Followed by a bike ride through the Pan Handle and into the Upper Haight where I got to see some of my favorite people and then go out to a nice meal with a big group of them.

I let the moon chase me home tonight, grateful to have a home to come home to.

I put away the groceries in my bag.

Grateful to have groceries to put away.

I turned on my music and made some tea.

I think you catch the drift of this.

There are no mistakes in God’s world.

I think to myself, it’s not really my money anyhow.

It’s my landlords.

And I am lucky to get to live here.

In San Francisco.

Down by the sea.

Where the drift wood smoke snatches at my heart.

And the air smells like sea salt and the wilding ways of mermaids.

Home.

 


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