Death and Taxes (Okay not really death, just taxes)

Seriously, taxes suck. A lot.

I got my first paycheck yesterday from my new job (I know, it's sort of weird to get paid on a Thursday but I'm not complaining about that because I've got the set up to where I receive bank from Pottery Barn the day after depositing a paycheck from WFW; not a bad gig if you ask me) which I should be totally celebratory and super excited about.

And I was: Over the past couple of days I've been contemplating all of the wonderful things that I would be able to do with my paycheck: I dreamed of paying ALL of my bills (and more than just the minimum!), for example. I imagined buying a friend a birthday present and taking another out for a birthday dinner. I wrote grocery list after grocery list in which I bought enough supplies to stock my pantry, fridge and  freezer. I pictured myself chit-chatting with my stylist while getting a much needed haircut and going out on a date after buying a much wanted dress.

I believed, naively, that I could do so, so much with this first paycheck. I believed it all until I saw how much money the government took out for taxes. Of the $393 I earned, I only got to deposit $278.37 of it. That's right; the freaking idiotic jerk heads FICA, Social Security and of course, Oregon's Income Tax (we'll call it OIT from here on out) rallied and snaked over $114 of my hard earned money.

What punks.

I was probably a bit too over zealous in my thinking -- truly the epitome of wishful thinking, I know. Nevertheless, it is nice -- and sort of odd, actually -- knowing that I have money not just to live off of, but to spare. I mean, between both paychecks, I will have more money in my bank account than I've had in months.

Woo hoo.

And to think, two weeks from now is going to be even better. Double woo hoo!

Laundry Money

Every time I come home I always take inventory of what my parents have laying around. In what can only be described as the utmost moochiest of mooching, I gather up and load into my car at least half of the items I make note of. Over the past five and half years since I began (And yes, finished) college, I have permanently borrowed from my parents house the following:

Razor blades (Although to my credit, I bought my own for the first time last May)

Mascara (My mom buys the fancy schmancy kind from Macy's where she always receives 'free' gifts in return for her $100+ purchase)

Baking supplies, including cookie cutters, a flour sifter, measuring spoons and (my favorite) sprinkles

Towels (Both of my parents are a bit OCD when it comes to certain items. For example, my father has more guitars, boats and CDs than any solitary person could possibly use. My mother's obsessive collecting is a bit more practical; she has more towels than any two people could ever, EVER use.)

Socks (See above regarding my mother's aforementioned obsession with towels.)

I also always, always gather change. My parents' house is decorated with random vessels -- urns, vases, baskets, bowls, you name it -- of change; lots and lots of change. Throughout the past five or so years I'm fairly certain that, thanks to my change gathering ability whenever I am home, my parents have paid for more of the laundry that I do in Portland than my own toiling has. I figure they aren't going to miss it, since all the hundreds of dollars (I'm really not exaggerating here) in silver and copper are simply cluttering their house. Plus, I'm their daughter and they shouldn't mind helping me out a little bit, regardless if they are aware of their formidable contributions or not...right?

Right.

Despite everything, this trip home was no exception to my kleptomaniac endeavors. While I mostly scourged the house for photographs, I also managed to fill up a Ziploc sandwich-size baggy half way full of quarters. Without counting it, I took the baggy (shame-free) to the bank where, for the first time in two days, I pulled out my debit card and deposited the quarters.

The damage? $28.75. That's enough to cover laundry costs for two months....or a full tank of gas...or a week worth of groceries...or two weeks worth of coffee...or five weeks worth of beer.

It's also a fairly solid sale shopping trip to the Gap.

Decisions, decisions.