I can’t adult very well but at all. I can’t drive (not legally, anyway), I don’t know what a tracker mortgage is (does anyone?) and I can’t safely cook a full roast chicken. But the biggest indicator that I’m just a really tall six-year-old is that I have absolutely zero concept of money.
Spending is one of my biggest pastimes, and unfortunately it’s come to the stage of my bank account where yeah, that should probably change. During the week just past, my Dad sent me £125 to tide me over (I’d had to replace my phone after discovering technology is about as good at swimming as I am). I took some of it off my cash passport (awful fancy yoke) with the intention to pop it into the bank (did you know they open on a Saturday over here? Notions.) to make the account a little more stable.
Then I stopped. I had a lot of cash on me now. Time to carry out a mini social experiment on myself. Hopefully no Aoifes will be harmed in the making of this experiment.
So, armed with £90, I’m going to force myself to see just how much I’m actually spending in any given week. (It was £110, but I spent around £20 in Lidl on food for the week. Girl’s gotta eat.) I’ll keep an account of how well I’m doing here, and will be available for congratulations/laughing and pointing at when the week ends.
I give it until Tuesday. Wednesday at most. And that’s not in reference to when I think the blog posts will end. . .