I haven't seen Em since the wedding. She was a fixture in the days leading up to The Big Day - shuttling friends around and running errands and hot gluing the favors and bringing her usual sense of logic and reasoning to the chaos that was My Life then. We had plans to meet for dinner at her place last week, but then the Great Compartment Syndrome Debacle of 2010 happened and I felt it was more important for me to stay home with The New Husband than to be galavanting with friends. We rescheduled.
On Monday night, I hadn't slept well. Needless to say, I didn't look so good on Tuesday. I had a pounding headache most of the day that was threatening to turn into a migraine. Fortunately, it didn't. I left work at precisely five o'clock - famished - because I know that anything Em cooks is going to be amazing. By the time I got to her house, my mascara and eyeliner were dripping down my face and I think I even frightened her dog.
She pointed to a plate of vegetable fritters on the counter. "You hungry? Those are for you. Eat!"
"You don't have to tell me twice!" She brought Korean ribs from the oven, bowls of rice, some corn on the cob and fresh salsa with tomatoes from a local farm we both frequent.
After I'd stuffed myself, she brought out cups of homemade flan, which I swear are one of her specialties. When everything was done, she sat across the counter from me and asked, "Now, what is going on with you? You don't look so good. No offense, of course."
I didn't take any. I thought about it for a second. "I don't know. I'm in this weird place right now. I'm not doing so great," I admitted. "I'm so bored all the time. I have nothing to do. I complain and sulk. I can't imagine I'm very much fun to be married to at the moment."
"Your problem is you always have to stay busy. You should start your own company," she advised. "I'll help you."
"I don't even know what I'd do. At this point, I'm so determined to get out of debt and have a house next year that I'm willing to severely undercut my worth just to get some extra money to set to the side. I think the problem is that I (a) don't know what I really want to do and (b) constantly reprioritize my life, sometimes on a whim."
"You have a lot of marketable skills," she said, reminding me of that scene where Napoleon and Pedro are discussing girls and what skills they look for in men. Nunchuk skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills...I scanned my memory for the quote and realized that even in reverse, I have none of those.
"Yeah, I dunno. I have to sort it out. In other news, my boss told me I have to fill out time sheets. Not like cause she doesn't trust me, but because she knows I'm clearly working more than forty hours a week."
"You haven't been filling them out? What's wrong with you?" she asked, "Do you know how much money you're losing out on. Oh my god!" She paused for a second. "You work at least fifty hours a week - always have as long as I've known you - so that's a LOT of money you're leaving on the table. You could have had your debt paid off already with the overtime money you would have earned if you'd been filling them out. Are you insane?"
"Quite possibly. You know I do this to myself, right?"
"Girl, you're crazy. Fill out those sheets. That's another few hundred dollars a month."
"You know what I think is crazy?"
"What?"
"That you can run calculations like that in your head."
"I'm a Finance major, remember?"
"Yeah, but it kinda creeps me out." Then we just laughed about it because in all honesty, it's a skill I admire greatly since it's not one I've ever had.
We chatted some more about options, finances and she gave me a ton of encouragement that yes, I'm doing the right thing here. That I'm on the right path. That the way I've laid out our financial plan is, in fact, smart and achieveable.
It was my turn in the barrel this week, but I've got the most amazing friends and support network for which a girl could ask.
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