What's that smell...?

It is the smell of fear. I finally figured out this crazy stress and anxiety I've been under the past few days. It is wrapped up in a pretty package with a name tag that says My Name is Fear. Now that I know this and have a bit more understanding I hope to God I can figure out what to do with it.

Fear is so common, especially lately, in these very traumatic financial times. I love that I had my light bulb moment yesterday when I realized my fear is solely based on the fact that my life, especially my financial life, is now more than just I can handle. By this I mean my mortgage, responsibilities and preferences are out of just my ability to control and repair. It been quite some time that I have felt like a dependant. I've been taking care of myself financially for many years. Sure my parents have given me a little bonus every now and then, but generally my bills are mine and I figure it out. Regardless of how hard I work, I am now a DIY or Dual Income Yuppie (what some mean check out lady told me I was at the Joanne Fabrics in Ballard as I was so impressed with all my wedding crafts I was DIYing). Anyways, it is a weird thing to be like, "Honey, do we have some money so I can get a massage?" Or discuss the grocery bills, the life bills, the bills, bills, bills. I a super organized dork with my spreadsheet of bills and due dates and I know which bills I pay out of what paycheck. I make exactly the same every paycheck which is truly an organized and planning woman's dream. I even keep a checking register and write down every transaction, even the few dollars I might spend on parking. I also have a secret tactic of rounding everything up so that my account has a little padding and I secretly save without knowing it.

So this fear will come now and again until I get use to my husband plopping a chunk of change into our account. His pay days don't come on a scheduled basis like mine. Lately I feel like we have hit the jackpot with his little pile of dough he hands over to me to "do what I would like with." So Mr. Davis, sorry for the drama lately! Your muffin loves you and has a febreeze ready the next time that smell hits our home.