The Benjamins

Saturday last, just after Sean and I had journeyed to my house from his apartment, my mom zipped into the house in an uproar because "Sarah, did you smell the anti-freeze in the garage? You'd better because IT'S YOURS!" And sure enough, there was a slimy green puddle on the garage floor just beneath the front of my car. We popped the hood in hopes of finding that a leaky hose was the source (because those are cheap to fix, while leaky radiators are decidedly more expensive), but saw nothing, and I had no choice but to wait until the next week to see a mechanic. So for the next two days I drove with the A/C off and a bottle of water in the passenger's seat JUST IN CASE.

On Tuesday morning the nefarious mechanic called to let me know that he'd have to replace the radiator and also that if I ever wanted to drive my car again I'd need to rob a bank and turn the take over to him. This is the point in the story where I should mention that I'm only very sporadically employed and that I just took an expensive trip two weeks ago, and that it never occurred to me that I might need to set some funds aside for use on major car repairs because, oh I dunno, my car is a beastly ten year old Honda and during the seven years we've spent together I've never heard so much as a squeaky brake out of it? Yup, exactly.

So anyway, as soon as I told my sweetheart about my sudden financial crisis, he said that he could help pay for the repairs when he got his first pay check from ye newe job. And this is the point in the story where I have to call my fella out in front of God and all of you fine people for being the most wonderful, selfless person on the face of this earth, and for having a heart made of solid gold. HAHA! BUSTED!

I didn't take the deal, of course, because I have some money in reserves and I must insist that Sean put his income towards furniture and cable for his apartment, as I did not figure cardboard boxes and rabbit ears into my design. I did, however, have a mild panic attack/depressive episode smack dab in the middle of the week that resulted in me browsing freelance writer opportunities and seriously considering a job in a grocery store bakery. I thought I was going to the poor house, guys.

And then at 5:45 this morning my mom came running up the stairs waving a phone and shouting, "WAKE UP WAKE UP! A substitute system is on the line and it wants you to work today!" (Is it just me, or does my mom come across as a complete maniac in this post? Sorry mom, creative license!) So I worked my first substitute job EVER from 8:30 to 4:30, and afterwards I took care of my cousin. And after 12 straight hours of work, do you know how I felt? Like a big girl! For the first time since graduating! And for the first time in my life going to work didn't feel even the least bit dreadful. As soon as I realized that by George I might have just entered this new phase of my life called "adulthood," I proposed to that wonderful, selfless fella of mine! Only this time what I actually meant was "will you marry me right this second? Because the only thing that could make a paycheck more appealing is knowing that I'll see you every day that I work for it."