The Zen of Dog Grooming

This was my first week as a commissioned dog groomer. I've been doing them at an hourly rate for about six weeks now. But this week was the first where I actually made commission. I made about $150 more gross than I would have at my hourly rate. That isn't really all that much if you think about it, but it's cushion room. Especially for someone who can't afford to fix his car, has been living vicariously from paycheck to paycheck and with assistance from the parents in the cases of emergencies. I've had about seventy bucks a week left over after the bills are paid (rent, utilities, cell phone, Useless food and meds) to cover food, gas and entertainment. And that's without trying to save any money.

I'm decent at planning my money. I've just gotten into tight spots through a combination of being overly-generous to friends in need and not collecting on debts that people owe me (i.e. former roomates not paying their rent and me having to cover it). My credit card debt is almost entirely from when I was commuting to Little Rock from Conway for an internship. But I just paid off one, with two to go. One has an absurdly low interest rate, so I may never pay it off intentionally. I could probably garner a higher savings rate than the interest rate I have on that credit card.

Maybe it's because my financial situation is starting to look up that I've felt an odd sort of peace all week. Maybe it's from chronically watching Lost on NetFlix (which I recently purchased for the sole purpose of watching Lost). There's a lot of feel-good episodes on there. As I write this, I'm about mid-way throught the second season. For not having ever watched the show before, I've made an impressive dent in the show in about three weeks. I'm hoooked.

Maybe it's because in the first time in a long time, I actually enjoy my job. I've always liked working for PetSmart in some manifest, despite numerous times of trying to quit. It's a good company, and they take care of their employees. I have spectacular health insurance and should I die, my mom gets about $70,000 in life insurance. That should cover the expensive funeral I want in which I donate my body to science. It's a good company to work for.

But it's been a long while since I actually enjoyed what I was doing. I credit the dogs. Whether because I'm more certain about what I'm doing or because just find my face more attractive shaved, they've been more at peace with me. And the feeling is recipricol.

For whatever reason, my life has been incredibly peaceful this week. Low stress. Money in the bank. A job outlook that is increasingly looking more and more promisinig (man, did I just hedge that sentence).

I early anticipate blogging from up high.

Ain't Nothin' Gonna Break My Stride