Try again.

One thing many would be surprised to know about me is that I am irritatingly organized. For those who would like nothing more than for someone else to handle the details, I am a blessing. For those who are equally meticulous, I am an ally. And for those poor scatterbrained souls who adamantly refuse to relinquish control and just let me organize their lives—for the love of God—I am a fearful apparition who could appear at any moment clutching a fistful of papers while screaming, “How can you live like this?”

And yet I was always fearful of finance. I’d happily organize receipts, but was terrified of filing a tax return. Investments? No, thank you. I’ll stick with a simple savings account. Math is hard.

Bull. Who knew that a low-level obsession with minutiae could make one financially savvy? And here I thought my strange quirk only helped my way with words. So often women are ushered into what is deemed appropriate for the “fairer sex,” are told to let men handle the serious issues. And yet we are more than capable of handling those issues ourselves. We are simply afraid to try.

I was afraid to try, but quickly realized being afraid of something one is already knee-deep in is extremely dangerous. The greater the level of panic, the greater the potential to screw things up. Keep a level head. Relax.

Float.

Instead of letting fears of ending up a destitute spinster freeze me in place, I did some research, took a deep breath, took stock of my future, and opened up a brokerage account. Yeah, I know most of you are rolling your eyes. Big deal. Well, it’s big to me and I’ll celebrate it, thank you! It’s another step towards a different life—and a different way of looking at it.

Anyway, I promised I’d keep the real estate and finance talk to a minimum—and I plan to save for this quick tooting of a horn.

Toot!