Dear Wannabe Diary,

It started with a knock. A simple tok tok at the door, and my overthinking brain went into DEFCON 1. Was I being too loud typing away like a maniac? Did they hear my chaotic muttering as I brainstormed titles? Is this the day I finally get caught pretending to be productive while secretly stress-eating cookies from the "hidden stash"?

But no, it’s probably just the postman. Probably. Unless it’s someone trying to sell me life insurance or convert me to a new religion. Either way, I hesitated, debating whether to open the door in my current state—half-brushed hair, a questionable pajama situation, and the glow of someone who definitely hasn’t washed her face yet. (Spoiler: I opened the door. Mistakes were made.)

Impulse Purchases & Penalty Notices

Lo and behold, it was a package! My first thought? Did I order something again? Honestly, who knows? December was a blur of impulsive online shopping. I really should start keeping a list—or better yet, stop shopping altogether. Maybe actually read that "Psychology of Money" book I ordered last May instead of treating my cart like a therapy session.

But this wasn’t just any package. It was accompanied by the dreaded penalty notice. Bright red letters screamed "URGENT", and my mind immediately spiraled. A fine? In another country? What was my partner even doing there? Plotting a midlife crisis road trip? Before my inner drama queen could finish her monologue, I realized it was from last year’s ski trip. Oh. Right.

Apparently, our crime? Driving 96.62 km/h (60.04 mph) in a 90 km/h (55.92 mph) zone. A whole 1.62 km/h (1 mph) over the limit. Criminal masterminds, clearly. And the fine? €59.20 if paid in five days, €76.00 after that, or a delightful €135.34 if we decided to procrastinate (approx. $64.50, $83, and $148 for my American readers keeping track).

Naturally, I was ready to lecture my partner about his "speeding tendencies." Except... oh. Yeah. I was the one driving that night. Whoops. Guess I’ll save the "See? I told you so" moment for next time.

Relationships: A Beautiful, Chaotic Mess

Speaking of my partner, let’s dive into the spicy world of marriage dynamics—or, in my case, the “not-yet-married-but-still-dramatic” chronicles. If opposites attract, we’re practically magnets. I’m the loud, explosive, "let’s fix this now" type, while he’s the quiet, "let’s think it through" type. And while that balance usually works, there are moments when I swear he stirs the pot on purpose—just to watch me boil over.

Like when I’m ranting, and he stays silent. Or worse, smirks. Excuse me, sir, we’re arguing. Participate! But honestly? These silly fights—over who left the milk out or why his socks are always everywhere—are just part of the chaos. The kind you forget five minutes later but somehow makes your bond stronger.

Let’s not pretend it’s always sunshine, though. Money is our main battleground. I grew up with a mom who planned every cent. Budgeting, saving, spreadsheets—you name it. She was the financial queen, and I inherited her cautious approach. My partner? Let’s just say he believes in the "YOLO" philosophy when it comes to investments. Forex, to be exact.

While I applaud his ambition, it’s hard to cheer when his "promising trade" means we’re suddenly scraping to cover monthly bills. And guess who steps in to save the day? Yours truly, with my savings that were supposed to fund our dream house, not patch up impulsive trades.

Love, Annoyance, and Everything In Between

Despite all this, I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else. He’s my first love—my only love—and somehow, we just work. He’s the calm to my chaos, the peanut butter to my jelly (or the Nutella to my midnight toast). Sure, he drives me nuts sometimes, but he’s also the guy who massages my back every night without complaint, does all the chores when I’m sick, and is the best dad our kids could ever ask for.

Our relationship isn’t perfect—it’s real. And honestly, I think that’s why it works. We fight, we laugh, we annoy each other endlessly, but at the end of the day, we’re a team. And isn’t that what love’s all about? A little madness, a lot of patience, and someone who’s always got your back—even when you’re 1.62 km/h over the limit.

Signing off with love, fines, and a side of snacks,

Wannabe The Chill Wife (but still just the girlfriend because, apparently, "why rush?")