Shit.
I just got a breakdown for the closing costs for the apartment I am apparently buying next week. It’s more than I can afford, but I know it won’t hit me until I sign on the dotted line and then move on to being the brokest-ass person on the planet.
Good thing I *like* the taste of Ramen. And Ron’s Italian so I can throw some pasta at him. I just hope the cannabis club downstairs has good ventilation; any more paranoia and I’ll definitely pop a head vein.
