That’s the number of net carbs I’ve eaten today — and, remarkably, I’m not crying for more. There’s no gnawing in my stomach, shouting “Feed me, you fool.” (Still more proof that I might not be eating enough, I suppose.)
With that being said, I know I need to eat something else, because 17 is way too low. Maybe I’ll go home and fix myself a salad.
I think my hunger’s a little off today because I’ve managed to stress myself out over my car. The Boyfriend and I were going to swap vehicles.
“I just have to drive to Poco (about three miles away) to play tennis. Can the Focus handle it?”
“As long as you remember to brake early,” I said.
He acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.
“You’ve ridden in the Focus. You know how the brakes feel when I stop.”
“You need to get that checked,” he said, assuming the role of big, strong protector.
Now it was my turn to act like HE was nuts. “Why would I get it checked when I don’t have money to pay for a repair?”
He insisted, though. So now I have an appointment to get the brakes looked at tomorrow — and I have just $198 on the credit card I’ve been paying down since my trip to RWA Nationals. (I had $140 more than that, but I had to use it to pay the balance on a $400 computer repair earlier this week. Yeah, I managed to scrape together cash for the rest — that’s what an extra paycheck in a month will do for me. Too bad I can’t get 3 paychecks EVERY month.)
Despite many attempts to keep a savings account, I have no money in the bank … unless you count the $30 in my “buy a new MacBook” fund — so I have no idea where the money for this brake job is coming from. (Of course, the Boyfriend says, “It could be nothing.” But being a financial pessimist, I’m expecting the worst.)
I just need to sell a novel — or win the lottery. Hmm. The novel sale is (slightly) more likely.