dianaschnuth

I hate it when I get to this point in the evening. I feel like if I go to bed now, I would be giving up some quality time, and would just bring myself a few hours closer to going to work again—but I’m really too tired to do anything useful.

This is possibly the only time I’ve reloaded my browser at the end of one of my auctions—and literally jumped back from the screen, thrown my hands up, and exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

Finish this sentence: “People who really know me can count on me to…”

Is your first thought a positive one? Because it doesn’t have to be.

I’ve been contemplating this today, especially considering this weekend’s checkbook-balancing debacle. Aaron wasn’t entirely surprised when I almost bounced a check or two—in fact, he’d jokingly berated me about my checkbook register habits not a day before I discovered my big whoopsie. (That’s how he calls my attention to something that bugs him: he jokes about it.)

I feel like I’m known for the things I’ll screw up. I’m known for procrastination to the extreme; for leaving dirty dishes to pile up unchecked for unhealthy periods of time; for leaving my clean clothes in the basket or on the floor; for having piles of papers stacked around my desk; for never unpacking boxes of random crap that I’ve been moving around since college; for staying up too late and sleeping too long; for being late (or almost-late) to work… and the list goes on.

Of course, I guess I’m also known for having relatively spiffy web designs and taking good photographs. I hope I’m known for telling it like it is, in a lighthearted and tactful way. I was once known for using really long words in conversation, and I’m still known for being able to spell them all.

Still, though, it’s troublesome to know that these more negative things are thoroughly expected of me. Even more disturbing is the fact that I’ve been trying to change these aspects of myself for years and years. How many times do I have to go on a self-improvement kick before something finally sticks in my thick skull?

And how long before I realize that beating myself up over my faults doesn’t make them go away?

*fuming*

Aren’t bank employees supposed to be able to balance their own fucking checkbooks? Yes?

No.

Not me, who forgot to record the PayPal purchase of two class reunion tickets, made a ten-dollar math error, forgot to record my $30 NSF (non-sufficient funds) fee resulting from said math error, and still had to adjust my checkbook for over $20 I couldn’t find. Not me, who is now over $50 in the hole—and that’s after transferring funds from my savings.

I’m OK for now; we just can’t mail off our car payment just yet. It’s not due for another week, though, so we’re OK.

*runs off to root through box of eBay-ables*