This isn't a disaster; if I wanted to freak out about stuff (and I must want to) there's plenty else to choose from. Frankly, this little blip shouldn't even bother taking a number out of the ice-cream parlor dispenser. Still, it's bothersome. Luckily, it's just bothersome enough to rant about, not bothersome enough to hide away and let kill me in private.
I can do one of two things:
1. Ask my bills to let me be a week late. I wonder when they're going to get sick of me asking that. Maybe this time.
2. Ask for an advance on the check that I would have gotten next friday, shortening pay cycle for the month of March and eliminating it from the running for "Month my shit gets together".
No, if I really wanted to worry about something, it's those unopened Student Loan envelopes on my table. Yeah, why don't I do that? Not open them, just keep them around so they can catch my eye anytime I start to feel an inappropriate wellness-of-being come over me.