Giving myself a breather for a moment about the money situation, I decided to splurge and get a bottle of Diet Coke from the downstairs vending machine.
And I looked in my wallet to see if I had a dollar for the machine.
I did have a dollar, which was cool. I didn't have the $20 I intended to use for gas money this week, though. The $20 my mom gave me. The $20 that was in my pocket when I went to lunch with my mother this afternoon. The $20 that was going to keep me from tapping into my bank account. The $20 that I needed, certainly, but it still felt like a luxury.
So I freaked out. Because, if I'm already having money troubles, why is it that I then - on top of everything - have to lose money AGAIN? I mean, seriously. I was looking all around, cursing my own stupidity.
I called my mother and asked her to check her car seat for the bill. I told her that, if she found it, she should keep it because I apparently am irresponsible and can't keep up with funds.
The loss of the twenty bucks, though this is going to sound silly, became who I am. And I started to lose my mind over it.
The problem with the bill was solved, but I still managed to find a way to be dumb about money.
I went downstairs, had the Diet Pepsi anyway and tried to put it back into perspective.
Dumb stuff, of course, is going to happen in life when you least want or need it to - because it can. It doesn't mean anything. Life doesn't make any sense.
Someone else probably found my twenty bucks, lying in a parking lot or on the floor of the bathroom or some place. They probably needed cheering up.
I am not going to die over this. I am going to get through this and get past it.
A missing $20 bill doesn't reflect who I am. It merely reflects that I need to put money in my wallet, not my pocket.
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