Six Weeks

Six weeks from this moment, I will be in New York City.

Gah.

Yesterday I drank a martini, booked my ONE-WAY ticket to JFK Airport, and then quickly drank another martini. I mean, Honestly, I have seventy-eight dollars in checking, an a big fat zero in savings.

What happened to all that money you saved up, you ask?

Well, last Sunday, while I was on the phone doing the obligatory Mother's Day, my own little cat/child Bruce ate a four foot ribbon.

Three hours of surgery, two vet visits and TWO THOUSAND dollars later, my little buddy is waddling around the house in a cone collar. Yes, that was my NYC money. And yes, I cried (at the vet office, while entering in my credit card information; and later, at home, while staring at my bank statement). My wonderful little cat is going to be okay, but, man. I have no money. None.

So, six weeks. I have some interesting things planned. I am going to sell all of my possessions, in a ritual called a 'yard sale.' I am going to scrub my entire residence and pray to the apartment gods that I get my entire deposit back. Also, randomly, my boyfriend and I are going to be receiving a car from his grandma. So, obviously we're going to sell it.

Times is tough.

Okay, I have twelve minutes until work and I need to down this mimosa that I just ordered. Wish me luck.