Jazz Hands
One of the things that keeps me up at night is the fact that my ninety-pound sheepdog has scratched up the floors of the Los-Angeles-overpriced-for-what-it-is house I rent. I don’t want to google how much refinishing hardwood costs. I’m assuming it’s more than my damage deposit.
If I want to be as frugal as possible with this disaster, I need to learn how to refinish floors and do it myself. Instead of nights YouTubing Fosse choreography I could be YouTubing how to refinish hardwood floors. I’m either going to have to do this myself or lose my damage deposit + extra.
Why does this keep me up at night? Because I’m an excellent mid-level writer. I made a small film that most critics loved. I’ve published two internationally best-selling books. I mean, based on that alone, one could assume I have a tidy savings account. But what you really should be assuming is when I get a deposit from this audience supported newsletter, it’s grocery money.
Two things I hate: guilt and shame. Nothing gets me there faster than thinking about money. I know this to be true of my friends as well. Top-tier friends do talk about money.
My friend Sarah texts:
My friend Orlando recently opened up about his work and finances.
We’ve been talking about money for years.
So, let’s talk about money…