Yeah. It's weird how some people just have no issues with letting their parents pay for stuff well into adulthood, and then there are people like me who feel vaguely mortified when Mom sends a birthday card with two $50s inside.
This kind of freaks me out, since I started paying rent toward my parents' mortage and all my own expenses at 18. I mean, I'll let them feed me occasionally because hey, parents, and do stuff that saves me money at almost no cost to them like borrow the use of their washer and dryer. But I just can't imagine being dependent on the folks as an adult barring some catastrophic illness or injury that absolutely prevents me from working.
Hey, I'm still feeling sleazy for disclosing the mortgage payment.
I don't know if I'm allowed to, I just can't.
I'm picturing you with an evil hand syndrome. You start to answer and your hand lunges menacingly at your throat.
I'm still feeling sleazy for disclosing the mortgage payment.
Don't think I'm not judging you, you shameless woman.
My brain is refusing the information, with lots of harsh whispering like, "Cindy, that is NOT your business."
Huh. None of it sticks in my brain because it's all so irrelevant to me. I mean, what do I care what someone in a different industry, in a different part of the country, with a different background, makes or pays? So I go "huh," and then free up the brainspace.
Don't think I'm not judging you, you shameless woman.
I get not being able to disclose, but is it shocking to read other folks disclosing?
is it shocking to read other folks disclosing?
No, it's actually very interesting, and it makes me wonder why I'm so damned bougie.
Relief from this binding sensation is found in needling Betsy.
Jesse is pretty much me on this. Though I did think it was curious how many of us (who I probably can't name now) seem to fall in the same general range.
Lilty, I was so pleased with myself when I caught up with Wonderfalls months after the broadcasts and caught where your name comes from.
