my washing machine is about to go kaput, methinks.

What it mostly means is the increasing speed of thoughts spinning in my head.

You know.

I have debt. I want to pay it off. I need to pay it off. The exorbitant payments I do each month only represent 1.47% of the total sum.

Before I pay off debt, I need to have a small cushion of savings – exactly for situations like my washing machine going out. But even the third of the price of a modest machine will take me about half a year to save, at the rate I’m going currently.

And it just layers on, and on, and on.

I begin thinking about my personal values, and how my existence has been in complete misalignment with them. Even if we take away my constant fluctuation between anarchy, personal liberation, and absconding to live as a witch of the woods and my perfectly capitalist desire to live like the Sultan of Brunei, albeit still very personally liberated – there is no alignment to my values in my current actions, because the most radical thing I do these days is refuse a coffee to go at the start of my day and get a free one from work instead.

So I could either put away the two bucks towards life in the woods or the golden Rolls Royce. Whichever. Either the one that comes first, or proves to be most lucrative to my emotional state of the moment.

Please forgive me this jumbled narrative. I’ve been omitting one of the more important medications in my protocol, because I can’t find my back-up box, and there’s a shortage of it in the country, so I can’t buy any. It sure is fun to be a crazy bitch in 2023.

I suppose it’s more fun than being a crazy bitch in the 1960s.

But I digress.

I will need to get a little (just a touch, really) more radical with my value alignment, because my washing machine is about to bite the dust, and winter is coming, and I’ve got bills to pay, and debt to kill, and promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. If I am to refuse that wretched cup of coffee for any period of time, I am to restructure half of my slack and lackluster habits. And it’s not even a matter of me constantly complicating things and wanting to be perfect in one smooth action. It would mean to have some breakfasts ready at work, because more often than not I also take a croissant with my coffee, because I was too late to have breakfast at home. So it will also mean waking up earlier. Which will mean going to bed earlier (though if my medication will be gone for another week or so, we can just exclude sleep from schedule). Which will mean leaving work earlier. Which will mean being more aggressive with my time and also eating at my desk, which will mean prepped lunches, etc. etc.

Who would have thought I’d have to abandon my languid swamp all because of a daily to-go coffee.