Phew. What a day. This afternoon I mowed a lawn for a client, then did some other outdoor odd jobs for them. This was fine by me. I love the sun. In a good mood, a working mood, I then came home and began mowing my parents’ lawn. I say began because I only got the front yard finished. The mower kept dying. Then, while I was working in the back yard and trying to restart the mower, the ripcord broke. I pulled back with all my might, and the rope just went flying. Well hell, I thought. That’s it then. No more mowing tonight. So now the backyard is only–I don’t know–twenty percent done.

The tall grass doesn’t seem to care.

While I went to Walmart for a few things, my dad had a friend of his look at the mower. It turns out it was leaking oil (which I knew) due to a broken gasket (which I didn’t). And it needs a new air filter. And a new ripcord. When it rains, it pours. As I told my dad, “The more shit you own, the more you have to take care of.” Thankfully, it should be easy and affordable enough to get the mower fixed. And when we do–well–look out, tall grass in the back yard.

Your days are numbered.

At Walmart I bought D batteries for my Maglite flashlight, since I discovered recently that the batteries I had were corroded. Alas, when I got home and tried the new batteries, the flashlight still didn’t work. Maybe my beating the flashlight on the concrete and using vinegar and baking soda to get the old (stuck) batteries out screwed up something else (like the switch). Whatever, I’ll just add it to my list of things to futz with later. If all else fails and I REALLY want another Maglite, they sell them at Walmart. As one of my old bosses used to say when he ran out of money–there’s more where that came from.

Speaking of money, tonight after dinner I balanced my parents’ checkbook, which was off by–I don’t know–a couple dollars. And whereas it took about an hour to figure out what all was wrong, I did. Well, except for five cents. I couldn’t account for five cents. Anyway, my point isn’t to talk specifically about my parents’ checkbook. It’s to talk generally about money. My therapist says she has ice water running through her veins when it comes to finances. What she means is that she doesn’t get emotional about it. I’m getting there. Generally, I am there. Meaning I can deal with other people’s money (my parents’ checkbook) and not be emotional at all. It’s just a bunch of numbers. But MY money, well, that’s a different story.

At least it has been. I’ve written before about how stressful money can be for me, but I’ve noticed lately that it has less of a zing. I’m starting to see it as just a bunch of numbers. Today I quoted a job as an hourly rate. “You know I don’t like paying by the hour,” my potential client (whom I’ve known for a while) said. “Yes,” I said, “and that’s my price.” Now, I understood where this person was coming from–I get having a budget–so I estimated the number of hours it would take me. “It won’t be any more than this number,” I said. But my point is that in that moment I knew what I needed in order to not be resentful while working (what it would take for me to go to work and enjoy myself), so that’s what I quoted. And I honestly didn’t care if they accepted the offer or not. I knew that whether they “took or left it” I was still going to have a good day. More importantly, I knew I was going to be “all right.”

Something always comes along.

A door always opens.