Stilettos or Savings

Some years glide by like a figure skater, smooth, graceful and effortless. Others hit you like a rogue wave of responsibility and existential dread. This past year? A Category 5 hurricane with a side of Jagermeister.

It started with me stepping into a shiny new management role, which came with more responsibility, more stress, and Teams messages chasing me at ungodly hours like Michael Myers in their very own horror movie franchise. I now spend my days juggling emails, meetings, and the occasional existential crisis about whether this is, in fact, what I signed up for. Spoiler: I suppose it is.

Meanwhile, in the feline department, life decided to shake things up. I had to say goodbye to my beloved 17-year-old ZimMaster Flash—the undisputed king of porch chilling, treat gobbling, and delivering sass through the voices we invented for him. His absence is/was devastating, and the house feels quieter without his judgmental glares.

But in classic life fashion, chaos soon followed in the form of Coal and Vanilla—two tiny tuxedo tornadoes disguised as kittens. They have dedicated themselves to the sacred art of curiosity, destruction and reminding us that trips outdoors will no longer be about stoop chilling… every tree will be climbed.

But this year hasn’t just been about climbing the career ladder, kitten-proofing the house, and making Mr. Cabbage question his life choices. It’s also been about loss. My mom, after nearly a decade of battling Alzheimer’s, finally found peace. Watching someone you love slip away piece by piece has been nearly a decade of grieving. I am so glad she is finally at peace.

Let’s talk about the best part of the past year—Mr. Cabbage. Through every work rant, every emotional rollercoaster, every kitten-related crisis, he has remained steady. He listens, he supports, and—most importantly—he pretends to understand my very detailed theories about how our cats are plotting against us. That, my friends, is love.

And finally, our biggest milestone of them all: our six-year-old mortgage. The one thing standing between us and complete financial freedom is—drumroll, please—$16,500. We are on the doorstep of the final level of an exhausting video game. In just a few months, we’ll be homeowners, free and clear. No kids, no mortgage, just two people, two cats, and a lifetime of questionable financial decisions behind us.

So, here’s to the past year—stressful, bittersweet, expensive, and completely unforgettable. Here’s to whatever whirlwind comes our way next. Preferably one with fewer Teams notifications, more joy, less debt, and a loss that’s strictly of the weight variety. We hope you tune in to experience the highs and the lows with us.