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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

I should know better.

Hot, dry weather for a week followed by a wonderful thunderstorm. That means the pressure in the atmosphere is changing and I should expect my mood to follow suit. Instead of being excited about my new job, I sat at my desk fending off tears all morning.

The official email hasn’t been sent, so nobody at work can say congratulations. Although one person who I told said, “You are ten times more awesome than anyone we’ve worked with.” So that was nice, but I chose to ignore her nice comment and something nice my boss said and focus on the congratulations that I felt I had to pull from people. I was sad because celebrations wasn’t offered, I had to ask for it and even then it is at a delay. I was sad because I won’t see Ronnie tomorrow, when I’d gotten used to seeing him regularly. Usually when we have a blip like this, it turns into a month or two long blip and I dread that happening again.

So I went to lunch alone, even though I desperately wanted to be with people, because I was too high a risk for blubbering and crying. I dove into Atlas Shrugged and shrugged off my own mood for the half hour I was inside of the book. By the time I was back at my desk, I remembered why I had been so sad and tried not to be sad anymore.

Until I checked my online banker. GOD DAMN IT. The fucking check bounced again. What the fuck? So I traded angry messages and got some things resolved. I was, once again, so angry I was shaking. I wish I was wealthy enough that $600 didn’t matter, that I could walk away and never worry about it. But I’m not and I can’t.


I hate money. I hate that I have to care about it so much and that I have to spend one minute worrying about it. I don’t needs LOTS of money, just enough. How much is enough? Just a little more. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

On the bright side, I’m having dinner with Tim Fawkes tonight. He is moving to Austin at the end of the week, so this is my chance to say good bye, good luck, etc.

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