Sometimes the Problem Doesn’t Get to Take Everything

Well, the weekend wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be.

Diego floated me a little cash until Monday since he got paid on time, helping ease some of the concerns of having no money until my delayed paycheck finally arrived. Then he surprised me by gifting me the money to attend a Plant Bingo Social, a side quest I had originally planned on attending before payroll decided to forget that federal holidays exist. Smh.

When my paycheck was delayed an extra three days, I knew the event would have to be skipped. The ticket money would need to stay in my account, and I figured I would just hope another event came along later.

So when Diego told me he had sent me the money to buy my ticket, I was grateful. Truly.

This particular side quest was hosted by a new group geared toward women in their forties and fifties who were looking to get out, meet new people, socialize, stay cool, play bingo, and hopefully win a plant.

I will admit, though, that the doom and gloom followed me into the weekend.

So did the stomach issues, which is usually a sign that I have stressed myself out enough that my body starts keeping score. The pain, cramps, and general stomach nonsense tend to show up whenever my anxiety decides to settle in permanently. It is not subtle about it. My body has never once waited for a convenient moment to fall apart. It picks the exact wrong time, every time, and then has the audacity to make me feel like I brought it on myself.

Since there wasn’t anything I could do about not getting paid on time, and I now had a small financial buffer until Monday and a side quest to attend, I decided to make the best of it.

Saturday afternoon, I made my way to The Kiln in San Tan, where the Plant Bingo Social was being held.

Normally, I arrive everywhere fifteen minutes early. I like to scope out the space, figure out the seating situation, and settle in before things begin. On this particular day, though, I hit every red light imaginable. The turn I needed to make to reach the venue apparently decided I needed to contemplate my entire existence while waiting for it to change.

After sitting through five cycles, I finally gave up, took a detour, and somehow managed to make it to The Kiln with five minutes to spare.

I found the room, was welcomed by the host, checked in by her children, grabbed a bottle of water, and looked for a seat. The first two tables were already taken, but I eventually found a spot and settled in.

The host invited everyone to pick out a succulent and decorate a pot while we waited for the remaining guests to arrive. I chose a succulent that spoke to me, grabbed a pot, and immediately looked up its name.

It turned out to be a Crassula arborescens.

My Crassula arborescens. Photo by Giana

Naturally, I added the care notes to my plant spreadsheet before I had even finished sitting down.

I never decorated my pot because I couldn’t settle on a design I liked, which honestly is very on brand for me.

After a little small talk around the table, the first round of bingo started.

I swear she called ten numbers before I had even marked a single square on my card.

Then suddenly I had three in a row.

Then four.

And before I knew it, I was calling out “Bingo!”

I was the first winner.

Now, I will admit that from the social media posts advertising the event, I low-key thought the succulents were what we were playing for. I had somehow completely missed the table filled with much larger plants.

I ended up winning a beautiful, full White Butterfly Syngonium.

She makes my other syngoniums look like scrawny teenagers.

I wasn’t expecting to win anything. I was mostly there for the vibes and maybe the opportunity to meet some new people around my age.

Unfortunately, the table dynamics were a little awkward. The kind of awkward where you are aware of it but also too polite to do anything about it.

There was a group of friends who mostly talked among themselves, a queer couple doing the same, and a woman I would guess was in her early twenties. Since we were the only two people not actively engaged in conversation, we started chatting.

She told me she couldn’t believe I had won, especially considering my bingo card had been almost completely blank at the beginning.

I laughed and told her that I couldn’t believe it either.

Of course, there was also the obligatory obnoxious person who kept making hand gestures every time sixty-seven was called and had to make comments whenever sixty-nine appeared.

Some traditions apparently never die.

After five more rounds, the event wrapped up.

I gathered my White Butterfly Syngonium, my succulent, my goodies, and headed home.

The rest of Saturday evening was spent with a gummy, rearranging my plants, and watching a few more episodes of Teach You a Lesson, a K-drama that has been absolutely activating my justice sensitivity. It is so good while simultaneously making me want to yell at the television every few minutes.

Sunday was Father’s Day.

I sent my dad a text and then spent most of the day relaxing. I played some Lego Odyssey and was getting ready to log off when Steph sent me an invite to play a few rounds.

I haven’t played battle royale in several months. At this point, I mostly live in my Lego world and only switch modes when friends invite me.

Steph was chasing sprites, which meant I was suddenly chasing sprites too.

Since I don’t grind the battle pass, I honestly don’t care much about any of that stuff. I told her I would help look for sprites, but I absolutely did not want the stupid burnt peanut in my inventory. He’s a disgusting homophobic person, and I couldn’t care less about him or his little burnt peanut.

And honestly, that ended up being the lesson of the entire weekend.

Being broke isn’t new territory for me.

I know how to stay home. I know how to stretch groceries, avoid unnecessary spending, and entertain myself without leaving the house. I spent the better part of my adult life doing exactly that.

What made this weekend difficult wasn’t the lack of money itself.

It was the lack of control.

The financial stress wasn’t because I had overspent or failed to prepare. It wasn’t because I had made bad decisions. It was simply because payroll forgot there had been a federal holiday.

There is something uniquely frustrating about doing everything right and still finding yourself dealing with uncertainty because someone else dropped the ball.

By Friday, I had already convinced myself that the entire weekend was ruined.

My stomach hurt. My anxiety was loud. My brain had fully committed to the worst-case scenario.

But somewhere between winning bingo, bringing home a giant syngonium, rearranging my plants, watching K-dramas, and chasing sprites in Fortnite, something shifted.

My beautiful White butterfly syngonium, succulent and bingo card. Photo by Giana.

The weekend wasn’t exciting.

It wasn’t life changing.

It wasn’t expensive.

It wasn’t some magical reset.

It was simply proof that joy still finds its way in, even when your bank account is temporarily empty and your anxiety is convinced the world is ending.

Sometimes turning a weekend around isn’t about fixing the problem.

Sometimes it’s simply reminding yourself that the problem doesn’t get to take everything.