The balance printout at the ATM says your checking account is 360 dollars in the hole... and you haven't even paid the rent.
Management at work says they want to "ask you a favor... Would you be willing to take on a shift change this next week?"... It's the Graveyard Shift.
You shove the old newspapers, loose batteries, your broken TV remote, an empty popcorn bag and a knitting project (a fuzzy pink scarf with those little, wild loose hairs that pop out to make it look similar to a feather boa or something equally textured) to one side of the bed to make some room for yourself once returning home from said Graveyard Shift.
You have to run out to buy a special battery for your vibrator because you long wore out the old one.
You've worn the same outfit three days in a row and it's starting to develop that "wellworn patina" like fine silver... only it's not as becoming and has a distinct fragrance all its own.
You're still driving around on your spare tire after you got a flat... four weeks ago.
You scoop some chocolate chips out of a bag for breakfast because it a) is conveniently sitting on the floor next to your bed and b) you're too lazy to buy groceries or fix anything else.