A Week In Central Vermont On A $52,000 Salary

Occupation: Program Manager
Industry: Sustainability
Age: 25
Location: Central Vermont
Salary: $52,000
Paycheck Amount (2x/month): $1,646.61 (post-tax)
Gender Identity: Woman

Monthly Expenses
Rent: $625 (Two-bedroom waterfront condo that I share with my boyfriend. He pays slightly more than I do and covers monthly utility costs due to having a significantly higher income.)
Loans: $0
Health Insurance: $0 (I am still covered by my parents)
Car + Motorcycle Payment/Insurance: $0 (I own my car and motorcycle and my parents cover me on a basic car insurance plan.)
Phone: $0 (Thanks, parents.)
Hulu/Netflix/HBOGo/Amazon Prime: $12 (I don't pay for any of these subscriptions directly, but throw $4/month at the subscription owners as a thank you.)
New York Times Subscription: $4
Billie Razors: $3
Spotify: $10.69
MyFitnessPal Premium: $10.69
iCloud 50GB Storage: $0.99
Roth IRA Contribution: $200 (My current employer does not offer any match until my one-year anniversary, so I choose not to contribute to the plan until that date.)
Personal Savings: $500-$1,000 into a HYSA

Annual Expenses:
Motorcycle and Renters Insurance: $135
Heat: $300 (for my half of a top off of our oil tank)

9 a.m. — I wake up from a melatonin sleep and my boyfriend, K., is gone. I see however that he moved his pillow to the window for my dog, Y., to gaze out of and let the cool fall air blow on his face. Very cute. I love them both.

9:28 a.m. — K. returns with breakfast — local sourdough buns, local eggs, sausage, Cabot cheddar, and Heart Roasters coffee. My hero! He usually makes us the best breakfast sandwiches on the weekend. We settle into the couch for an episode of Queer Eye, one of our favorite shows to watch together. I've been on a 90 Day Fiancé kick lately and I think he appreciates the shake up.

1:30 p.m. — Our ski passes provide gondola access during the offseason, and the foliage is pretty nice right now so we decide to be tourists and check it out. K. and I go to the convenience store to fuel up his truck at the gas station, put air in the tires, and buy me a Gatorade and a Kind breakfast bar. We listen to an 80's power ballad playlist as we drive to the mountain.

3 p.m. — It's hilariously cloudy at the summit considering we came up here to see foliage. Like, pea soup cloudy. I have chamomile tea and K. has a Manhattan. The bar is nice, but the bartender seems like she has had a rough shift and the family sitting next to us also has a hungry and cranky mom in tow, and they're just adding fuel to the fire. K. politely pays our check and we stroll around outside as it starts to clear up. It's fun to walk our favorite backcountry routes while there is no snow on the ground. We grab the last gondola down the mountain at 4:30 and joke about taking a $700 gondola ride (if you consider the fact that we have not skied yet this year).

5:05 p.m. — K. is craving buffalo wings and I've never been one to deny him that, so we hit our favorite bar on the way back. I'm not super hungry but should eat so I have a half order of bone-in wings of the hottest variety and a Miller High Life. We convince the bartender to put the Bruins game on — he is a Canadiens fan and not thrilled by our request, but he obliges. K. pays and we head home.

7:45 p.m. — While K. readies his motorcycle for a big ride tomorrow, I do some online shopping. Last year I challenged myself not to purchase any new clothing and to make the most of a Rent the Runway subscription while I was in a different job that had frequent events and parties and required me to dress well in client-facing situations. I purged a ton of old clothes in the process and bought nothing new. The problem is I now have zero warm pieces and my subscription has been canceled for the last five or six months. I go back to the RTR website, but it looks like they had an operations meltdown and are only taking customers for waitlist now? Makes sense, I had my share of issues with delivery when I was a member.

8:30 p.m. — Shopping is as frustrating and boring as it ever was, I will bake brownies instead. My diet really has not been good lately and I want to make it a goal this week to get back on track with my typically healthy eating habits. I've been feeling pretty depressed and overwhelmed with the recent cancer diagnosis of my brother who lives extremely far away, and trying to balance being a supportive partner to K., whose mom is approaching the end of her life after two years with advanced-stage cancer. Eating well feels like a chore, but on the other hand, not eating well has only made everything feel much worse.

10 p.m. — Just a couple tips for those who love fudgy, dense, rich brownies: a teaspoon or two of espresso powder will make a huge difference. And that shiny, flaky, crusty top you love on bakeshop brownies can be achieved by melting the butter and then dissolving in your sugar, which in turn will melt your chocolate chips when you stir them in as long as the butter is HOT but not bubbling. Brownies take eons to cool and the first cut is crumbly because I don't want to torture K. by making him wait two hours for the full cool. This is a huge step for me, sacrificing the aesthetics of my baked creations. I will let it go because they are brownies and not a decorative cake.

11 p.m. — A third of the pan of brownies is gone. No regrets. Honestly, I only had two but K. went to town. We watch Fire Walk With Me (K. rents it). Both of us are huge fans of Twin Peaks. This movie explains so much. I know it will give me nightmares but I finish it anyway and take a melatonin to help me sleep.

8:30 a.m. — I'm convinced that sleep aids make me have wackier dreams than usual. K. and I cuddle in bed for a little while before I get up to wash my hair and K. makes breakfast sandwiches to finish off the last of the good bread.

11:45 a.m. — It is the most gorgeous day for a motorcycle ride! Even though I'm not riding my own bike because I have a lot of anxiety about group rides, I follow K. in my car with the dog to say hi to friends and be in proximity to errands. Over three years together and we've managed to maintain fairly separate social groups with a few exceptions. The cafe where they are meeting up to kick off the ride is selling a latte to benefit a local nonprofit. It has carrot juice in it and it is amazing. Like if a pumpkin spice latte had a cool older sister who moved from Indiana to Seattle and wears MM LaFleur. $7

12:45 p.m. — I head out to go grocery shopping. First, I put gas in my car ($25) and then I stop at Market32 for some canned veggies and beans, King Arthur All-Purpose flour, kale, limes, apples, and an onion ($14.17). I'm doing the other half of my shopping at Trader Joe's, only because I want exactly one novelty item — cauliflower gnocchi. I've heard good things and I need an easy win for lunch this week. I also buy chicken thighs, chicken sausage, parmesan, milk, butter, eggs, brussels sprouts, seltzer, and RxBars ($35.87). $75.04

4 p.m. — The ride wraps up at a downtown brewery. I came undecided on whether to drink or not, but the brewery has a low alcohol, easy-drinking beer on the menu, so I order one each for K. and I. We get into a long conversation with a very jolly local dentist and his girlfriend who try and convince me to interview for an open position at their growing practice. I'm not cut out for office management, but I have always thought about going to dental school. Teeth are sort of cool? I'm quite happy in my job so it's not really a serious conversation. We leave around 5:30. $12

6 p.m. — I spend the evening preparing lunch for the week — cauliflower gnocchi gets pan sautéed in butter, chicken sausages are grilled on the porch, and kale gets braised. I do all the prep in 25 minutes flat and feel successful for the week ahead. K. wants to go watch the sunset at our favorite waterfront bar, and we get there just in time. He buys us $2 drafts and we hold hands on Adirondack chairs on the beach while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains.

8 p.m. — K. had an enormous food truck lunch at the brewery so I make a freezer meal of dumplings for me and a batch of basmati rice I'm sure we will eat at some point this week. After leaving two brownies out of the pan, I cut the rest of the batch up and wrap them on a plate to take to work. My coworkers have a love/hate relationship with my hobby. After watching a few scenes of The Fifth Element, we go to bed around 9:15.

6:45 a.m. — I am awoken by a chirping smoke alarm in the second bedroom. The dog is bothered by it and seems concerned with my safety, so he supervises my shower. It's a rather chilly 59 degrees inside. We just got our oil tank filled, but try to go until November to turn the heat on, so temptation will have to wait. Slippers will do. I pack my lunch and snacks and make coffee in the Chemex. I do not have any small tupperware for the shredded cheese I want to put on my gnocchi in, so I find a shot glass and wrap it in cling plastic, toss it in my bag, and I am ready to go. No time for eggs this morning so I have a chocolate sea salt RxBar on my commute.

9:25 a.m. — Payday came and tomorrow is the first of the month, so I pay off my Mastercard in full and send rent to K. like I always do. Because the fuel truck came last week, I also send him my half so he can pay the invoice (noted in my annual expenses). I used to pay $100-$150 a month for heat during peak months of winter when I lived in an old, poorly insulated apartment as a student and that has always been built into my budget. So when I moved in with K. it was an already built-in expense — it's just annual now.

10:30 a.m. — I eat an apple with peanut butter for my snack and see a notification from my insurance informing me that they will not be covering any more 30-day refills of my prescription and I need it TODAY. My doctor's office responds by telling me they won't front a 90-day prescription until I come back for my check-in, but they didn't have any available until the end of October when I scheduled in June, so…..???

12:30 p.m. — I have to say, I had my doubts, but the cauliflower gnocchi is good. I take my shot glass full of Parmesan (big mood) into the kitchen and heat up my kale, sausage, and “pasta” and eat quickly so I can try to have a productive afternoon.

1:29 p.m. — The coworker I share a very thin wall with loves to hum and sing at her desk for HOURS at a time. When she hums, it is to no recognizable tune. It's just making noises. I want to bang on the wall I'm feeling so irritable, because I'm apparently incapable of grown up communication when it comes to saying things that bother me to my coworkers. Instead I just self soothe with a brownie and read a Money Diary. I really just need to find a way to approach her like the mature adult I know I am deep, deep down inside somewhere.

4:49 p.m. — Shamefully, I admit this was a totally unproductive day. I did manage to complete my beast of an expense report and submit it on time though. My best friend invited me to yoga on Wednesday and I bailed on her last week due to poor time management and still feel really bad, so I sign up for the class now on MindBody to hold myself 100% accountable. $10

5:38 p.m. — I head out for the day and go to Costco. Of course, the first things I see when I enter are a weighted blanket and new silicone oven mitts. Both things I have been thinking about nonstop all summer. With my brother so far away and so sick, I feel guilty spending money on anything that couldn't go towards a plane ticket or something else that is somehow constructive to supporting my family. But I realize I have to take care of myself too. The guilt is very real though — being the family member on the other side of the country avoiding the realness of cancer and all the sadness and isolation it bestows.

5:45 p.m. — When I arrive at the prescription window, I learn my insurance is now rejecting the 90-day refill I had to pester my doctor to give me. The American healthcare system really knows how to keep things interesting. I fill for 30. The pharmacy tech thinks it's probably them trying to get me to use a mail order pharmacy. Sounds less convenient and fun than me getting to go to Costco at least once a month and eating samples of taquitos from old ladies who slip me double servings. $4

6:15 p.m. — K. texts me while I am at Costco to let me know his brother is in town and wants to have dinner with us. I stop home to take care of the dog and then meet them at a bar downtown. I have to pay for parking ($2.30). I stick to club soda all night and have an Impossible Burger for dinner — before today I'd yet had the opportunity to try one. I'm a big fan of red meat, but am making a conscious effort to live the values I work to advance in my job. There is a fair amount of fear-mongering around genetic engineering in today's culture and I try to examine it regularly. The fact of the matter is that it is a huge privilege to be selective with your diet. But whether we like it or not, genetic engineering and food science will play a fundamental role in sustaining an exploding global population depleting natural resources much faster than we can replenish them. So, getting used to burgers made in a lab seems like a step in the right direction. K. and his brother split the bill. $2.30

9:30 p.m. — We play keep away with the dog and share some chocolate before going to bed early. I'm determined to get back to my normal wake up schedule.

7:30 a.m. — Okay, so I tried. I did get a fantastic night's sleep, which I'm feeling good about. Today I'm washing my hair, so it's a bit of a rush to get everything ready for the day — pack my lunch/snacks, make eggs for breakfast, and take care of the dog. Before my brother got sick and my family sort of became chaotic, I was so much more organized in life. I went to the gym at 5 a.m., totally killed it at work, maintained a healthy social life, packed my damn lunches at night. Depression took over and I'm trying to ride it out and keep up as best as I can with my still-new job. Bad season for me right now, I guess. Normally I take the dog to work on Tuesdays, but we have a coworker visiting this week from another office and I want to be considerate in case they do not like dogs or have an allergy. I have to let him down easy and let him know he will not be joining me at work. He watches me pull out of the driveway from my bedroom and it breaks my heart.

11:38 a.m. — Today is already proving to be a stressful day. I eat some oatmeal I brought with powdered peanut butter, cinnamon, and a diced apple.

2 p.m. — After wrapping up a one-on-one with my manager I heat up the same lunch I had yesterday and read the Mexico City Money Diary. I like to think this could be my life. I love my little life in Vermont and all the quaintness of my garden, my neighbor's goats, cross country skiing in my backyard. But do you ever feel sometimes like you are living a life that is not completely your own? Nothing like grief and a personal crisis to make you question your purpose.

3:30 p.m. — Dinner feels far, so I eat peanut butter out of the jar and drink the remainder of the seltzer I opened two days ago. I'm really in a zone with my work today, making progress with some pesky things I have been avoiding. My coworker just returned from Thailand and brought back a bag of dried Durian, which I have the nerve to open because “it can't be that bad.” The smell of sweet garbage and sweaty socks smacks me in the face with the force of a dump truck coming in hot to the landfill as soon as the vacuum-sealed package comes to life. I plug my nose and chew off a small piece, but the smell of trash really just ruins it all for me. I palate cleanse with Cheez-Its.

7:30 p.m. — We take our visiting coworker out for dinner and it is a testosterone-filled meal that I cannot handle. The conversation switches to talking about another coworker's friend who has cancer and I politely excuse myself to avoid this triggering topic. Work pays for my meal and I head home as soon as I can.

8:45 p.m. — My least favorite chore is dishes, but it would be so mean to leave these for K., so I unload the dishwasher and take care of the small amount in the sink in ten minutes, and then I get myself ready for bed. My dog tricks me into feeding him, acting like he hasn't eaten in days. I find this out when K. texts to inform me that he has already been fed. It's a torrential downpour outside so we get super wet because I'm too lazy to look for an umbrella before I take him outside to pee. I have two pieces of chocolate and one melatonin before I put on an oversized shirt K. left out and go to sleep.

7:05 a.m. — I wake up with a vague memory of K. coming in last night after his night with a friend, giving me a kiss, and telling me hed had a Quarter Pounder waiting for him on the table, which made me laugh hysterically while I was half asleep. The McDonald's bag still on the table confirms this. He left early for the gym today and I get up a little early too — only to realize that I forgot laundry in the dryer and it never fully dried, so it smells mildewy :(. The worst. Rewash. My neglect of laundry and resulting waste of resources probably cancels out whatever I conserve by eating Impossible burgers. I scrounge up an outfit and do all the morning things. I use the last Chemex filter to make coffee. It always feels like an accomplishment to finish a box of 100 filters.

9 a.m. — This morning I remember I own a really nice pair of headphones and bring them to work to drown out the annoying and incessant male voice that won't stop seeping through my thin wall adjacent to the conference room. My productivity today skyrockets.

11 a.m. — Second breakfast is oatmeal with powdered peanut butter, cinnamon, and dried cranberries with a hint of honey. My boss and I have a casual chat and one of my work friends stops by my office to present me with delicata squash from her garden. I can't wait to make this into a pie!

12 p.m. — Before I got to work this morning I decided I was going to take a half-day from home. After touching base with my boss and packing up my things I head back home and greet the dog, change into an even schlumpier outfit than I wore this morning, and make space on my couch to take my next call.

2:15 p.m. — My mom texted me while I was on the tail end of my call and I made the mistake of reading it. She is updating to let me know that my brother was rushed to the hospital due to some complications of the drugs he received a few days ago. My breathing and heart rate pick up and I know where this is headed, but I stick out the last few minutes and by the time the call is over I am a bit calmer. I want to respond like I'm angry: “don't text me the heavy shit in the middle of the day with no warning!" But I know I am just sad and afraid. And my urge to distance myself from my parents who are facing this in a more reality-based way than I am is just telling of my avoidance of grief and loss. The first and only experience I have with death was really traumatic: a very dear loved one died by suicide. It still hurts, and I'm scared to be hurt again, which just feels silly because we all die. I manage to respond calmly and say something supportive.

2:30 p.m. — It's obvious that I need a break. I put together a batch of white chicken chili. This is a comfort food from my childhood and it feels good to eat familiar things lately.

4 p.m. — My brother and I exchange some texts. We talk about boredom and some of the bummer side effects of treatment. I want to send him a big and complicated puzzle, but he has no permanent address at the moment so he asks me to hold off on sending something so it doesn't turn into a burden to retrieve. I manage to knock out some emails and get a lot of work done.

4:50 p.m. — I start making chili and decide I need to make cornbread to go with it. I love heating up my cast iron pan before baking, the edges get nice and crispy. While it bakes I have an apple with peanut butter to hold me over until dinner. The cornbread is pulled just in time for me to head to my yoga class — I almost burn myself on a spot where my hot hand is worn (should have bought the silicone mitts at Costco). I lay a less worn oven mitt next to the handle so K. doesn't accidentally grab it with his bare hands when he comes home.

7:10 p.m. — Wow my body feels tight. I'm glad my friend invited me, it was a good class. This teacher is all about wild arm balances that I can never do, but I always give it my best effort. I stir in the last of the ingredients to my crockpot and let them heat up while the cornbread warms in the oven. K. and I talk for a couple hours over dinner, and I go to sleep with the support of melatonin around 9:45.

6:35 a.m. — One of the more bothersome inconveniences of having a sick family member far away is the travel plans you made four months ago get disrupted. This morning's anxiety is brought to you by remembering that I bought an $800 non-changeable, non-refundable ticket home for Thanksgiving for the first time in three years and because of treatments, home is not where it usually is. I always buy travel insurance but have never had to use it, so I hope that it pays out so I can rework my travel plans. I've never felt like insurance was designed to work for the consumer, it feels more like a scam, but it is probably worth a call.

8:15 a.m. — I somehow manage to get out the door early with packed meals and the dog. I thought that by leaving at this hour I would have more than enough time to stop at my usual cafe to pick up more beans and a coffee, but a farmer is moving his stubborn cows to another pasture across the road and it delays me significantly. For some, this would be an inconvenience but I have a meat share from this farm so I'm happy to see the heifers are getting fresh grass this morning. Once the girls are safely in their pasture I move along.

9 a.m. — Specialty coffee is not cheap, but once you're caught on to the taste it is hard to turn back to the cheap stuff. I've become friendly with these baristas and they give me a free coffee with my purchase. I also give them a nice tip, and then I'm off to work. I have a sea salt RxBar for breakfast on the way. $21.55

11:47 a.m. — My morning has been pretty busy with internal meetings but I find fifteen minutes to navigate through Allianz Global Assistance's dense and winding phone tree to finally connect with a customer service rep. As expected, they are not terribly helpful in helping me interpret my policy. I stare at $1,100 plane tickets to my new destination and have a sinking feeling. Why is insurance confusing? And horrible? And why do airlines suck? Should I tweet about it? Is that how people get what they want these days? Should I even go? Who am I to just appear once or twice a year and ask people to accommodate me?

2 p.m. — I heat up my sausage, gnocchi, and kale and eat at my desk.

4 p.m. — On Thursday's we wrap up early and have a happy hour in the common space which is right outside my office. I want to work but I'm distracted so I hang out for a bit and eat an apple, everyone plays with my dog and feeds him treats. I finally leave at 4:25 to take my suffering office plant to the nursery for some advice.

5:30 p.m. — Turns out my philodendron was just root bound. Honestly, not what I expected. I was advised not to repot it when it came home with me three months ago. I'm glad though because it will look much nicer in my office in its new decorative home. And boy do I love the smell of fresh potting soil. When I get it in the house, I put it in the shower for a good soak to help the transition. $26.73

6:30 p.m. — Tradition brings us to my college town co-op's annual member dinner. I pay for parking ($6.30). I live sort of far away and rarely shop here anymore, but I pay my patronage every year. The food is amazing, free, and my friends are here. This year they are not doing a build-your-own-plate buffet and in fact, they have no plates at all. Just tiny samples and finger foods. This gives me anxiety because it's flu season, but you only live once, I guess. $6.30

7:50 p.m. — Tradition also states that we leave before the actual member meeting starts. So we do. The appetizer set up this year was a stressful experience: picture vultures around a cheese table acting like this is the last carcass on the Savannah. Still, I leave feeling pretty satisfied, which probably has something to do with eating four or five two-bite desserts. K. and I cuddle on the couch for a while and think about mixing a drink. The smoke alarm starts chirping again. We are out of whiskey AND batteries. The horror! We move to the bedroom, crank up the white noise machine, and go to sleep around 10:30.

7:45 a.m. — I begin my morning by trying on my new Levi's that I ordered last week. They don't fit. Great start! Living in a ruralish area is a balance — you have no neighbors, but you also have no stores and spend at least $100 on returns year over year, or just end up owning very few things because shopping is such a bummer. I'm in both of those categories. I package them up for return and get ready for the day. Chemex filters are still pending because my shop was out, so I dust off the ol' French Press. We are dog/house sitting this week for a friend, so I leave the door unlocked so they can drop off their crazy puppy in her crate before heading to the airport. With both K. and I traveling frequently, having a trusted friend that we can exchange dogsitting with is a huge help and saves me probably hundreds of dollars a year. I wish our culture left more room for a barter economy to exist. And yet, capitalism would still reign.

8:30 a.m. — Today feels like a good day to treat myself to a bagel. The fact that I don't fit into my new pants is of no concern to me. I get an Everything bagel with a ramekin of cream cheese so I can eat it on my own schedule at the office. I used to have a terrible habit of eating in the car. Trying to maintain my distance from that. $3.03

11:15 a.m. — After a very productive call with one of my teammates, I decide it's time for my bagel. I'm still sipping on my coffee too. Yeti tumblers really are essential. It's so great in the winter when I go ice fishing or skiing.

2 p.m. — Bloomingdale's Friends & Family sale starts today and I find a pair of AGOLDE jeans I've been eyeing for 25% off. Really hope these fit — I live in denim. I add in a belt with a silver buckle that really speaks to my New Mexico roots for good measure. While I'm at it, I see J. Crew is having a Friday sale and pull the trigger on two sweaters I've had hanging out in my cart for a few weeks. This order costs me nothing because I have a $170 gift card I've been holding onto for… wait for it… FOUR YEARS. Yes, someone gifted me a J. Crew gift card for my college graduation that I never used because I was working in the service industry at the time and had no need for nice clothes. The total is $136.25 with the 30% promo. So what? I was saving it for a rainy day. It is literally raining outside, so it feels appropriate. $152.40

3:22 p.m. — Eating the same thing all week saves me time and prevents food waste, but by day five I am really sick of this meal. All that is left are five measley pieces of kale. The chicken sausage is really the only thing that has held up. I whisper “calories… protein” to myself in my head as I choke down five-day-old cauliflower gnocchi.

3:49 p.m. — Craving sugar, I eat the reject orange Tootsie Pop in the communal candy jar. This is a new low for me.

4:30 p.m. — I decide to call it and stop by K.'s office on my way home after topping off my car with gas so I won't have to bother on the weekend ($38.38). Our friends text me to let me know they are late getting out of the house to the airport and unable to drop off the dog. They live about an hour away from work so that's kind of a bummer. K. and I strategize and decide first we need a beer, so we have a quick pint at the neighborhood pub. He pays. We head home shortly after to take care of our little guy first, and then onward to their place. $38.38

7:15 p.m. — We can't find the dog's extra crate, leash, or collar. There are some haphazard care instructions scribbled on the back of a Martha Stewart recipe, and there's a cat here I've never seen before, so that's how this is going so far. I knew we were looking after their two absolutely insane dogs, but they failed to mention we also had to look after three cats and a flock of 18 hens. And we need to put diesel in the tractor and give the confined and antisocial cat eardrops?! If a random person tried to pass off this level of preparation for a housesitter, I would be pissed. But these are my friends and they've recently fallen on some hard times and desperately need a vacation, so I'll let bygones be bygones and try to figure out what I can. Fortunately, only one of the dogs has to come home with us tonight, the other animals have care arrangements for the weekend. I'll have to spend some time thinking about how I will manage all of this while K. is away next week and the real work begins.

9 p.m. — While my tiny dog asserts alpha to the 50-pound puppy with a total lack of self-awareness, I reheat chicken chili and cornbread and K. queues up Spaceballs. We are doing a full day motorcycle tour for foliage tomorrow and need to get an early start. It will be a cold one but should be awesome nonetheless! As I watch the puppy topple a beer with her wagging tail onto our only rug I realize I'm in for one hell of a ride this week.