For about two weeks now, I've been significantly freaking out about money. Transferring the deed of my car over to my name and the subsequent hike in insurance payments (because I am a twenty-four-year-old single female living in an urban center who had ONE speeding ticket in her ENTIRE LIFE and it was for 32 IN A 25 MILE ZONE AND IS TOTAL ASS BUT WILL COST ME AN EXTRA $34 A MONTH FOR THE FORSEEABLE FUTURE and I'm sorry I got all shouty there BUT REALLY) means that a significant chunk of my paycheck is now spoken for. Yes, I got a raise when I got my new job. But I still don't make a lot of money, and need to save for books and tuition. It'll work, but it'll be tighter than I'd like.
So I've been trying not to spend cash on things I don't need, and with the exception of a used hardcover edition of Lake Wobegon Days, it's been fairly successful. And even with that, Cranky Jim gave me a frequent shopper discount. Lord knows I've probably paid a mortgage payment for him over the last few years.
Lean Cuisine for lunch. Drinks from the free kegs at kickball. Netflix for entertainment.
But sometimes a gal's gotta say to hell with the budget. Sometimes when she's walking home from a really busy day that started a very busy week, she'll pass by a group of adorable children selling homemade jewelry and Easter cards from a pint-sized card table across the street from where she saw that guy peeing in the churchyard a few weeks ago. And... sometimes, even if she isn't exactly rolling in dough these days, she's gotta splurge:
Best twenty-five cents I ever spent.