Paying Bills Is Like Drinking

by Wells

I spend hundreds of dollars every month on things I bought a long time ago.  The creditors are getting way more than their minimum payment out of me.  And that’s how I like it.  Or, you know, that’s how I have to convince myself that I like it.

I’m working on cultivating a feeling of pride and contentment whenever I get an email saying that $100 has been taken out of my account and automatically mailed to the credit card people.  My initial though is along the lines of “Gah!  I’m ruined until my next paycheck.  I’m cash poor because I couldn’t control my spending in another lifetime.”

But that sort of thinking doesn’t help me.  I need to rationally see the benefit of climbing $100 higher out of this pit I’m in.  It’s a situation similar to a night of drinking and its resulting hangover.  I can say to myself the party is over and be miserable and sick about it now.  Or I can flip that on its head and think of sticking it to the credit card companies as my party time and the lack of cash as a recovery period.  If I didn’t have to eat and live somewhere and carry on a life of raucous dignity, I’d send those bastards all the money I ever see and tell them to choke on it all.

I may be living lean now, but it’ll only be a year or two until there’s nothing left to pay at all, and I’ll suddenly have a few extra hundred dollars every month.  I’ll have a mortgage and be building equity.  And soon after that I’ll be working on a degree and maybe even getting some stuff published.