That is a beautiful gun, although I could do without the lettering on the grip.

Enough with the clean clothes, you filthy feline!

I’ve been getting a lot of advice since posting my New Year’s Resolution to pay off some of my credit card debt. Both Tron and PsychoPhil think I should dump my savings account and use that money to attack the debt. Tron is a finance major, and Phil has battled his own debt, so they probably know what they’re talking about.

Tim tries to get through my thick skull by explaining to me:

Don’t save cash for emergencies; throw all ur extra cash at ur debt. It’s better to do that. I’ll explain my reason why in a scenario. Lets say you have 10K in debt for easy numbers, and your monthly fees are $800:

1) In ten months, you keep you savings fund, and have a suprise car expense. You pay the $1000 out of your savings fund. You’ve paid $8000 in charges during those ten months.

2) You throw all ur savings fund ($1000) to your debt. Your monthly fees are now just $700. In ten months, you keep you savings fund, and have a suprise car expense. You pay the $1000 using a charge. Your total debt is back up to 10K, but you only paid $7000 in fees. You saved $1000! More actually, considering compound interest.

I don’t pay $8000 in fees a month. I realize he was just throwing those out there. I’m making a list of the assorted finance fees for all of my credit cards as the bills arrive — hopefully, the last batch will get here tomorrow.

But really, the reason I’m not going to touch my savings account is that I need it for the psychological reasons. I can look at that account and say (to myself), “With this account, I am financially independent of my credit cards.” I’ve already completely weaned myself off purchasing anything with credit cards — even gas and food, if I can’t pay for them with cash or my check-card, I starve and/or run out of gas. There was always a drain when I’ve had to hand over a credit card for a major repair, because my thought process has always been, “No matter how much I pay down on these, look, I’m right back to where I’m started! I should rob a bank.”

And the second bit of the psychological aspect is that, hell, I’ve put almost TWELVE-HUNDRED dollars into my savings account since September. I can remember two years ago when I had to choose between buying food and paying my utility bills, when money was so tight I couldn’t even afford to rent a movie from Blockbuster. And now I’ve got a couple of decent jobs where I’m making good money, and if I can put that much cash aside in that short a period of time, there is no way I can’t meet my August deadline!

The final reason is this. I am dedicated to paying down my credit card debt by almost half by August. But I’ve made this vow before, and if I decide to start back the dark path into debt, that savings account could quite literally be the only thing that saves me from complete and total doom.

And anyone who doesn’t know what “complete and total doom” feels like should never get a credit card.

At about two I decided, “Jeff, get off the computer and go rot your brain finishing Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgendy.”

On my way to the living room, I saw Guy curled up under a bookcase, and he looked so content I decided to join him. Not under the bookcase - I wouldn’t fit - but next to the bookcase. We snuggled, the floor felt not so un-comfy, and I woke up about an hour later. Guy then decided he’d had enough quality time and walked away.

I fell asleep again, then woke up and decided, “Screw this, I’m taking my nap on the bed.” I walked into the bedroom and there was Guy, sleeping on the foot of the bed. He looked at me as I stretched out with an expression that seemed to say, “I came in here because I like to nap in solitude, damn you.”

Anyway, he put up with me for another half hour before finally leaving again. I need to stay awake - work soon. Yuk.

Not nerdy, but definitely not hip.

No shit, sherlock.

I think my neighbors across the hall in apartment C moved. I haven’t seen either of their cars in at least a week. I suppose they could be on vacation, but I’ve got the feeling they packed up and left. I’m not really “friendly” with any of the other people in the building, a nod here or there (and I keep knocking at G’s door to tell him his cat escaped again and is pawing at his door).

I don’t think I was all too friendly with the other folks in my building in Rossbrooke, either. Sure, the dude who lived in D and I would talk a bit, but he moved in like two months before I moved out, so what does that count for?

I remember back at the Colony on Mustone Court I was really good friends with my next-door neighbors. There was the old lady at 12 who I’d stop by to say ‘hi’ too at least once a week, and for the first year there were the foreign folks in 18 who invited me over for a barbeque and beer one summer night. There were three of them - the couple were from Turkey, I think, and than Yassu was from Japan. They never really said goodbye either, just one day I saw people who weren’t them moving stuff that wasn’t theirs into the apartment. Dude.

The strongest friendship was with Jodie at 14. We sort of had an “open door” policy - if the door to our apartments were unlocked, come on in! I moved away from the Colony four years ago, and Jodie and I eventually lost touch (every now and then I see her on AIM). The last time I saw her she was helping me lug all my stuff to Cockeysville in her dad’s huge pickup.

So, back to Apartment C. He was a big bald dude, she was a tiny tiny girl. They both wore, on occassion, shirts or hats with the Chili’s logo and for some reason I was under the impression he was either a manager or line cook, and she was a waitress. He drove a medium-sized green pickup, she drove a blue Cavalier until about a month ago, then she drove a silver Toyota Corolla. His name was Joe, I never learned hers, and they had two cats - the adventerous one was named Charlie, and I got to hold him a few times when we’d both be leaving the apartments at the same time and he would slip through the door. He was very friendly, except the time he scratched my nose. Grrr.

We first really met when G’s cat escaped for the first time. Of course, we didn’t know whose cat it was, just that there was a big tabby on the landing. All three of us played with the animal for a bit, then I got it some food and they got it some water. As the day went on, the cat became angrier and angrier, until finally I had to go to work. Er, it probably didn’t help that I decided to introduce Guy — neither one of the cats appreciated that. When I returned home that night, the cat was gone, and I assumed reunited with its owner.

Usually our conversations were pretty limited, a “Hey, how you doing?” when I was leaving and they were coming in, or the reverse. I wish I’d spent the time to go over there and say hi and invite them over for a beer or something.

Don’t Panic.