The best seat

This morning, I woke to grey skies misted by drizzling rain and the gentle plink-plink-plink of water dripping off leaves.

It feels nice to be cold again.

Cars drive past, their tyres slick with rain, squeezing out tiny showers that spray against the bitumen. Fat drops of rain batter against the windows of the house and shhhhhhhh their way across the rooftop like the perfect soundtrack to an afternoon spent cooking soup or stew. 

The lounge room fort, painstakingly created by Sid to cater for yesterday’s hangover is now a rainy-day-movie-haven, its generous supply of blankets and cushions and stretchy-out leg room already calling for me to abandon this keyboard and lose myself in someone else’s imagination for awhile.

I should probably go and claim the best seat. I have two cats to contend with.

Expensive, boring balls

According to valid sources of information, such as that infographic that has been passed around Facebook/Tumblr, I am apparently one of the world’s richest people.

This is in fact a lie.

While part of me feels very guilty for complaining about being broke when I have access to clean water, a roof over my head and enough money to buy noodle box for dinner once a week, there’s another part of me, the part that gets to Sunday with $20 left in the bank, that doesn’t feel at all guilty for complaining about being poor.

It’s frustrating to work all week, but be barely able to scrape by for the seven days that pay covers, let alone save money. The idea of ‘getting ahead’ is not one that has ever been part of my world. Even less so when we are both existing off one wage.

When people ask me if I regret anything, I say no. I don’t actually think about the answer first. My philosophy has always been that you learn lessons from every bad decision, so don’t regret them.

That, too, is a lie. I’ve learned lessons, but I still have regrets.

I regret destroying my credit rating by taking over the phone account of an ex because he’d ruined his credit rating years before. I regret not knowing how to be my own boss and stick to the hard line I wanted to take with money. I also regret the countless drunk sessions of spending rent money, bill money, all my money – on booze and cigarettes for myself, and whoever else agreed to party with me to assuage my guilt.

I regret that I’m so scared of the future, of particular responsibilities, that instead of forcing myself to be that way, I run from it, and keep putting it off until another day.

But now I am 30, and I have so much catching up to do that it’s completely overwhelming. But it’s all still possible. I just have to keep moving, not burying my head in the sand.

For the first time in my life, I will stick to what I say.

Starting with Soundwave Festival.

With just four weeks to go until the festival and our trip to Melbourne, I can safely say that there’s no way we will be able to afford to go. Sid has already said that he will sell his ticket, but when we literally don’t have a cent left from pay to pay, there’s no way I can save anything to spend on the trip, even for one person.

So. For the first time in my life, I’m going to do the responsible thing.

I’m going to sell my ticket and stay home.

I don’t feel good about this decision. I’ve been looking forward to the festival since the lineup was announced but I know that the disappointment of missing out doesn’t affect me anywhere near as badly as having that black cloud of debt hovering over me each night as I try to sleep.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Growing up and being responsible is a giant pile of balls.

Expensive, boring balls.