I just had my stitches removed. All 10. And I didn't even cry. I think I'm really turning into an adult here. The doctor said it was a skin inflammation of some sort. Something about planus something? Common in all ages. Nothing to fret. All I heard was "it's not cancer" and I was cool with the diagnosis. All that worry left me with a killer scar and a bruised right boob.
In other unrelated news, I'm starting to fret about money. Again. As if that's something new and different. My car payments are once again getting behind. My credit, guaranteed, is completely wrecked. I don't know what that means, except I'll never be able to get a credit card (darn) or a loan. That last bit's going to hurt. How does a person with destroyed, piss-poor credit get a car loan or a home loan one day, in the future?
Even better is when my car payments fall too far behind and the bank repossesses my car. I've been paying for that hunk of metal for six years. I'm down to the last $2,000, and I'd lose it. It'd all have been for nothing. And, I'm out a car.
On the bright side, no one's ever died from having their car repossessed or from having poor credit. No one's ever died from not having a full-time job or facing a rough year financially. I'm 26, I know I'll bounce back. But, fuck.
Any time now would be great.