The business is green.
Jane Cooper has to be… flexible.
And flexible has kept us afloat.
The landlord isn’t fixing the leak.
Possibly because I’m late on rent.
Possibly because the universe enjoys a good chicken-and-egg dilemma.
If I move, I lose my deposit.
If I stay, I own a decorative indoor rain feature.
Sure, I can recaulk a sink. I can even replace a garbage disposal.
I have industry-recognized drywall certification and a healthy respect for YouTube tutorials.
What I cannot do is open up the ceiling of a rental property and start rerouting plumbing without risking my security deposit, my housing stability, and possibly a lawsuit.
There’s a difference between being capable and being reckless.
If the landlord wants to ignore the drip, I’ll keep the bucket.
I don’t invest in assets I don’t control.
It’s the circle of life.
Except instead of lions and sunsets, it’s mildew and late fees… and me, conducting the orchestra with a spreadsheet.
So when the $50,000 from Katelynn cleared three days ago.
It hit the business account first—because that’s the rule.
Jane of All Services gets paid.
Jane Cooper gets a paycheck.
With anicebonus.
Which I deployed with the ruthless efficiency of a woman who has been triaging bills since she was twenty.
First, three months’ rent—set aside and scheduled to be paid promptly and in full for the first time in eleven months.
Not in halves.
Not with an apologetic email asking for fivemore days.
That makes me feel embarrassingly good.
Next, Grace’s tuition—which I’d been paying in fragments small enough that the bursar’s office knows me by voice.
I paid the remainder in full.
Before the due date.
I also bought groceries without checking the unit price.
