My room is stupendous. It's all reorganized and there's space and everything. And the closet now has a nifty shoe rack from Ikea, happily displaying more shoes that I realized I owned.

My bed is neatly nestled in a corner against a wall and my desk and uner the window. I love that. I love that feeling. It has such good energy. I feel like I'm sleeping in some kind of cubby.

Ross will also have more room to move his wheelchair around in here and that's very important to me. Anyway I can make this place easier for him to get around in, I'm all for.

He told me he's not fully comfortable here. I never really thought about that. I know the bathroom is too small fo his chair and he has to go through stages to get himself in there. I know there is no elevator and we have to go up thair stairs and it's a process...

I know there are inconveniences but he's called my place "home" more than once. I thought he did feel comfortable. But there is only so much I can do. I can't change the bathroom and I can't install an elevator.

But on other things, tomorrow is fun me day. I haven't had one of those in awhile. I'm going to get a facial and a manicure and then I'm going shopping. I won't be going on a spree, I can't afford to go nuts or anything, but I enjoy shopping and it will be fun and girly.

I don't have any debts to pay off. Not one loan or anything. I don't have a car. I don't even have a cell phone. I have no liabilities, except my housing, food, cats and various small monthly or bi-monthly bills. I have a nice nest egg in savings remaining from my inheritence.

And now I have an income and I'm making really good money. Much more than I thought I would my first job out of graduation.

I kind of get uncomfortable when I get asked how I can afford to do this or that. I get uncomfortable about saying I'm going to get things that cost money, unneccessary things and then getting that look. That look.

I don't know. When it was from my inheritence, I said in more or less words that my mom left me enough money to do X thing. Now, it's from my income and that is more touchy, probably because it's more private information. My mom dying wasn't private. It was never exactly a secret and leading people to believe she left me nothing would have been a weird thing to do, not to mention disrespectful to my mom who truly did take care of us the very best she could.

Bah. I hate money. I like what it does, but I hate money.

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