Being an adult is hard. There are times when my brain screams: WINE but my heart (and stomach) scream chocolate milk (the kind I can drink). Aside from the usual bills and unsuspecting things that need paying for when you really don’t want to pay for them, I’m learning there is more to this finance game. The first point of learning is credit cards.
I’ve had one for roughly three months now. It’s my saving grace and my monster under my bed. That little puppy clocked up nearly my limit after a series of ’emergency’ spends. They were legitimate…birthdays, my desperate need for a massage, the fact the food in my cupboard disappears as quickly as my butt gets bigger (and that’s a decent amount lately). It’s not easy you know keeping track of how many times I insert that card into machines…
Anyway. I’ve got the spending aspect of it reasonably under control and I’ve paid off most of the debt. But now comes the burning question: is the card I’ve got really the right one? I mean, I’m planning an overseas holiday. A big one. One that involves lots of flying. So perhaps an airpoints card would be the way to go? I’m thinking yes.
But then there are so many guidelines and hidden things that I just can’t get my head around. I’ve gone ahead and applied for one anyway, I mean, I might as well?
My next big thing with adulting and travelling is how to actually book a trip. I mean, most people would probably find this easy. But when you’re escaping for nearly four months of your life to a country you know little about, then flying, bussing, training, and possibly boating to several more in that time…it gets a little daunting. This is why we have travel agents. But then which one do you chose? Do you just rock up and lay it all out there like ‘plan my trip for me kind servant’ or do you ask for a quote in the most polite way possible and agree meekly to whatever they offer?
Adulting is scary.
I’ve got grocery shopping, which includes death stares to small children in my way or who are misbehaving and top notch trolly dodging and grocery snatching, down pat. I’ve got paying my bills on time sorted, well by this I mean I can pay them all within two months depending on the penalty for late ones…rent, power always on time. I’ve even managed to master the art of call centres and saying no to telemarketers or those people who turn up at the door for money.
I can get to bed on time (most nights) and I change my sheets once a week and do the washing twice. My car is even full of petrol most weeks.
See, I’d say I’m mastering it.
Yet for some reason, I still feel rather unable to swim in a very deep ocean called ‘growing up’. What steps to take next in life? When do you move up in a job? When do you want more money? When do you take up new hobbies? When do you decide your work pants are too worn out and you need new ones? How on earth do you plan a trip? At what stage in life am I meant to be ‘moving forward’?
There are always these impossibly big questions.
Life never stops. Well, it does, but by then it’s a bit late.
People are getting married, having babies, are on their way to their dream career. Me, well, I’m still looking at online flights wondering if I should just board the next one and get the hell out before I really do grow up.
Just kidding. Kinda.