1875

1875 the year:
The first organized indoor game of ice hockey was played between two pick-up teams at the Victoria Skating Rink in Montreal.

The first performance of the Piano Concerto No. 1 by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky is given in Boston, Massachusetts with Hans von Bülow as soloist.

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, English composer was born.

OR

1875: the amount of money LOW BALLPARK I must have each month (not counting groceries, cat food, vet bills or tire rotations) to own my house. A cheap ass small house at that.
Now, you see this doesn’t seem too bad. I have rounded up and figured in and times-ed everything by twelve (months) and the figure I came up with is almost exactly HALF of what I’ve made this year. But the MONTHLY number….where the fuck am I going to get that? By putting every thin dime I have into the bank and not having any kind of a life. other than a naked, non eating life…which would work out because if I’m not eating then I’m going to be skinny and if I’m going to have to be naked because i can’t afford clothing of any sort then I will need to look somewhat decent. Not that anyone will see me. Ever. Because I will have no money to do anything with in order to be social or part of society in any way. This is good. Skinny, naked, hungry cat lady who owns her own home. Who says women can’t have it all??

Ok. Before you all start pounding your drums and jump onto the soap box labeled “you think you got it rough I only make. . .blablabla ” let me just say that is all fine and good. I hear ya. But this is MY story. And it’s my budget and my finances and my learning curve and reality check.

Fuck Ah-ROUND!

I have it. It can happen. But the party is about to be over for this single gal. It’s time to reign it in and cinch it tight. I have a plan and you may have to listen to some bitching over the next few months but I know it will be fine. This is what happens when we grow up. Adulthood. Responsibility. Mortgages and equity and insurance and credit.

Kind of overrated and makes me want to barf.

But it’s that time of year when I start making my lists and focusing on the Do-Over that lies ahead and this is the BIG ONE on my list. I absolutely cannot fathom throwing 600-700 bucks a month to someone else when I could be owning my own place for that much. It works for some, just not for me. Not anymore. I need a room of one’s own. My space. My wagon wheel coffee table. It’s time that I took charge of my life instead of waiting on some “whatever moment” to come along and do it for me.

So this is me telling you I have one more week. One more week to live it up, party like a rock star, and buy everybody a round. One more week to live with no boundaries. Eat. Drink. Be Merry. Then it begins. The Plan will activate and we’ll have to find alternative ways to be social. It’ll be fine.

Right?

Fucking 1875.00