Hella Stella

Last night I got my final invoice for the renovations that we hired out, aka, the renos we didn't know how to do ourselves.

While I was expecting the amount to be high, there's something different about *knowing* and *seeing it on a piece of paper.*

I cried for a while, cancelled a dance lesson I had set up, and moped around the bedroom. My BH very sweetly tried to cheer me up, again and again, to no avail.

Eventually he turned to the internet, hoping to find something funny enough to make me crack a smile. I think we had been watching funny videos for over half an hour before he hit the jackpot.

Folks, this is what brought me out of my debt-induced funk.

I laughed and cried and laughed some more, and although I still feel depressed about money, at least I can watch that video on repeat.

Speaking of money, tomorrow morning we get our new fridge. It can't come soon enough... That tiny leak is now a fucking lake and the dogs keep wandering through it. I can't keep up with the mopping.

Next week we get our shed, and I'm clinging to the knowledge of its arrival like a lifeboat. Part of the reason we're not unpacked yet is that I have several large items sitting in my house that should really be in a shed. This includes a large-ass weight bench, a giant wardrobe, a workshop table, three trunks, all my luggage, all our tools and a variety of doors.

I know. It's dumb, but there you have it. I want that shed, and I want it bad.

So, before I realized how expensive this was all going to be, I set aside enough money for a new computer with recording capabilities. You know... The one that is supposed to go in my recording closet to facilitate actual recording? THAT ONE. The responsible gal in me wants to put those savings towards my debt. The musician in me wants me to buy the damn computer, since I'm probably not going to be buying much else for a while.

I have yet to decide what to do.

At least it's Friday, right? I will crack open a beer and hang the laundry on our new line. I'll snuggle the bulldogs and kiss their drooly faces. Then I'll crack open five more beers. Then I'll pass out in a lawnchair.

That should lift a bit of the stress away.