Living expenses is a term tossed around casually for such a griping topic of conversation. But the real cost is merely life itself. If there was no need to eat, sleep, or breathe then heck, there would be no reason to keep yourself alive. But alas, everyone has currency to stay in check on planet Earth.
I tend to live as frugally as possible. The cosmetic aisles and indulgent sweets are my weaknesses when it comes to spending money. For the most part I don’t spend more than what I have and I haven’t even had a credit card for a year. I only bust that evil magnetic piece of plastic out once a month to pay my cable bill. I think I have only overdrawn twice since opening up my first checking account at the age of 15.
No matter how I budget the cost of milk just keeps rising. Three dollars and 99 cents. I had to tell myself no today, that water would have to suffice in my oatmeal. I have a fully stocked fridge right now as it is, but it’s nice to pick up a few things here and there. But when I get to the check out I regret buying anything in the first place. Did I really need that particular brand of soap? Maybe I should’ve gotten Fruity O’s instead of Fruit Loops. I over think my purchasing decisions to the point of anxiety. If I dwell too much I might go crazy.
When I was a small child I saved loose change from chores, couch cushions, and gumball machines in a pickle jar. I’d squeeze my tiny little hand to pluck out a quarter when I needed to make change at my lemonade stand. After a hard day’s work I would count my money and think to myself, I wish money didn’t exist. Why can’t everything in life be free?
It would still be my mentality to this day if I hadn’t taken economics in high school and learned there has to be a system since we are no longer Neanderthals. I only wish that the hard work I put in would produce more than the bare minimum. I do not mean to bemoan and wail ‘woe is me’. I only want it to be known that as a post-grad twenty-something I, too, have financial problems. It would be silly to suggest I am alone, and likewise be assumed I am not spoiled. I live comfortably in a one-bedroom apartment with my love of two years. The free heat in the winter is appreciated, the clothes hanging in my closet are good quality and somewhat new, and I have never been hungry from lack of money. It’s a struggle to maintain what I have, however, and I get by independently of anyone else. I know I could rely on my parents if I had to, but they are ten hours away and I’d prefer not to wire a request for money at Western Union at this time.
Every breath of air is another moment we as beings must stay afloat. It is not the groceries, nor the roof above our heads that is sucking us under. It is the physical flesh, bones, and blood running through our veins that is making a mockery of our pocketbooks.
Prime Time Living 