Maybe Money DOES Make People Happy

Sick. It's how I feel. I ate a pound of ColdStone Creamery's Lard-In-A-Cup, and I just thought I'd check on my bank account via the Web. SHIT. I really don't think twice about renting a DVD, stopping for a coffee and a muffin, ordering in ColdStone on Sundays with BR1 and BR2. "Champagne tastes with a beer budget," my dad says. "Fifty pairs of shoes." How can editors at a publishing company that shall remain nameless live off of a $22K/year salary? At a publishing company where you have to look like you make $100K. And I make a decent salary, yet I can't seem to make it? I moved here 2.5 years ago with $3,000, and I'm still asking dad for money? Maybe I should move back to Kansas? All I know is that I have 3 loads of dirty laundry, and for the first time ever, I have to pick and choose what I'm going to wash because I can't afford to do it all.