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Financial Injury Report… Part II…

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When it comes to cars, I have a poor track record.

Sure I get my oil changes, my tires rotated, and every once in a while, I’ll throw in a radiator flush when the service guy nags me enough, but that’s pretty much where it ends.

I’m more of a reckless, fix it when it makes weird noises kind of gal.

This always worked when I was in college – but maybe that’s because dad was always there to ‘borrow’ my car and bring it back a few days later after he paid a mechanic to clean up my mess.

After I graduated, I bought a new car and with that, bought myself out of any service requirements for at least 50,000 miles (in my mind anyway).

Unfortunately for me (and VERY fortunate for my car), my husband believes in regular maintenance. Both our cars hit 60,000 miles this month and he scheduled maintenance on his truck this month and mine next month.

He worked with a family friend and was able to get the service done for $300. As I was figuring out where to pull the $300 from in our budget, the lovely state of California sent his truck registration bill of $295 – the fee unexpectedly raised yet again from last year (Thank you Arnold Schwarzenegger).

My husband and I were both able to work some odd jobs this month – thank goodness! – and should have most of it covered. But this week is turning out to be one expensive week!

Financial Injury Report… Part I…

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Less than a week ago, I injured the tendon on the underside of my foot. I wish I could say it was from doing something cool like… snowboarding or… saving the world… but leave it to me to injure myself while doing something boring like running.

It was run, run, run… face to concrete.

Apparently, it’s a fairly common injury – albeit a very painful one.

The bad part is, if I don’t get this thing under control, the doc will saddle me with a big, ugly, expensive medical boot.

Hmm… perhaps wearing 5” heels to work 10 hours later wasn’t a bright idea.

As someone who still periodically thinks I know better than others far more educated than myself, I didn’t think it would do too much damage… plus, other than two pairs of running shoes and two pairs of the mandatory California flip-flops (neither of which are HR approved for work use), I don’t own a pair of flats.

By 9 am, tears were streaming down my face.

So, I was forced to purchase… *gasp*… flats.

Maybe it was from the pain, maybe it was from the financial frustration, maybe it was from the stress of my 30th birthday, but I found myself with a face covered with tears blubbering to the poor shoe salesman about having to buy ‘grandma shoes’ and “it’s not in the budget – but neither is an ugly medical boot or more doctor’s bills.”

It wasn’t my strongest moment.

*Sigh*

Goodbye to my favorite pair of high heels, hello to ‘grandma shoes’ for however long it takes to avoid medical boots, doctors, and surgery.

the new flats