Sunday morning

Sunday morning.
I tip toe out of our bedroom, put on a sweater and head to the bathroom.
I cover my face with a green face mask from lush.
I grab the merci chocolates my husband gave me for our anniversary.
Me, my ipod touch, the chocolates (only the milky ones… I love having a husband that will eat the nasty dark ones!). Grey’s anatomy on the touch.

The perfect sunday morning.



I’m a crier. That’s how I deal with pretty much everything. I cry.
I haven’t cried at work. Not in front of people, anyway.


I have a blog, and I like accounting, it’s easy to see that I’m quirky.
I’m also not that good with people, I’m much better in 1-to-1’s (probably why I have a history of best friends and boyfriends, but not clubs or gangs).
Last year I didn’t go to the Xmas party our company held. It was hard, I was new and everybody asked me why. They were nice, said I’d have a great time. I knew I’d hate it and it would show, which would be considered meaner, so I didn’t go.

Life style shock

Last night we went out with my friends from school to celebrate a birthday.
One of them is a teacher looking for a job. The others haven’t yet finished college. They work some strange, some weirdly interesting part time jobs. 14 hours a week. Irregular schedules and income.
I forget that kind of life IS an option.
Having to fight hard for work/life balance is ALSO an option.
The teacher? We’ll call her Mary. She spent 6 months in Guatemala. At night she heard shootings, during the day she taught in the community school.
Anna, still in college, works in a shelter for the homeless.
Me? I work with people wearing suits. We make money for the people with more expensive suits.

The time of crazy

Looks like it’s that time of the year again. The time of crazy. The time of dreaming of work.

My husband informed me this morning that I was talking in my sleep tonight. About accounts that didn’t balance.

He’s ever so understanding and says he doesn’t mind my crazy-sleep-monologues as long as I don’t mention any men.

Newlywed weekend

I hate coming to work and getting asked what I did the weekend.

I stayed home with my newly married husband. We looked into each other’s eyes and… How much detail do you really want?

Don’t ask, don’t tell.

Dating in Finance

I think working in finance makes you a very-hard-to-date kind of nerd.

You work long hours. Your final work is only a batch of numbers. You definitely don’t save lifes, but you might order cost cuts that make nice people unemployed.

Let’s face it, that’s not likely to make anyone hot.

Which is why most people either started dating BEFORE they started working, or they are dating a finance nerd, too (who might think your pivot table is hot).

Me, I started dating my now husband when I was still in college – studying finance, and he was working in finance.

It was perfect because I could spend all the time I wanted getting ready and pretty for the first special dates.
Since I started working 2 years ago, I think I’ve only done my nails twice. And waxing falls off my priority list more often than I care to admit to the internet.