There are some really wonderful things about having a responsible husband. He's the type of man who makes his family a priority and models responsibility to his children. He cooks, he cleans, he shops, he fixes things and he's very hands-on when it comes to taming the gremlins. He's pretty near perfect a husband, really.
No, you can't have him. I found him first and I'm keeping him. Plus, he thinks I'm beautiful and I can't seem to convince him otherwise, even first thing in the morning. That right there is worth getting all amazonian on any woman who tries to move in on him.
There's only one problem: every two weeks, he insists we sit down and pay the bills. We tuck the tiniest gremlins into their pods for the night and he fires up the dreaded spreadsheet. Every time that graph paper-like document opens up I just about spew vomit all over his keyboard. On budget nights I would happily hand him over to just about anyone if it got me out of the chore I hate the most.
How would I deal with money if it wasn't for Geekster? I would probably book a holiday somewhere warm to get away from all the stress. And that is why I'm not the crowned Queen of Budgets.
See, I hate dealing with money. It's one of the few things I really and truly suck at. However, I do have my strong points in the dollar world: I can shop for sales, I can avoid buying things we don't need, I can find ways to cut costs. But I absolutely hate to look at the actual numbers.
Geekster lost 10% of his pay a few weeks ago due to some cutbacks at work. Not everyone had their cheques reduced, however. The rest of them were laid off. Therefore, we try to smile when we say "pay cut" because it's currently an antonym for "fired". In this economy you have to roll with the punches, so roll we have. We just cry a little while we're rolling.
We always said we'd never live beyond our means. In fact, we had a master plan of not even living at our means. We had a cute little house, two cute little cars, two cute little children and one solid income. Life was good. It could have gone on that way forever.
What crumpled up our life plans and tossed them in the proverbial recycling bin? Lust, my friends. Pure lust. At some point just about three years ago, Geekster and I threw caution to the wind and did some naughty things in our cute little house without a cute little condom. Before we knew it, there were two cute little lines on a test indicating that our lives were about to change forever.
Again.
Don't get me wrong: We all adore our little Spawnling, hooves of Hades and all. He's by far the greatest ending to our reproductive tale. However, his arrival meant trading in my compact sedan for a budget-busting van and our compact house for one with enough room that we wouldn't be eyeing each other homicidally all the time. The last three years have been a whirlwind of change with a serious lack of spare change.
I also thought that was a great sentence. Thank you.
Tonight, after I went on my daily doggy walk, I came home to find my nemesis the spreadsheet grinning maliciously at me from Geekster's laptop. "Just paying the bills," my husband said with a sigh.
Drat. Why did I have to powerwalk tonight? Couldn't I have taken my time? Maybe took a leisurely stroll and frolicked in the park for a while with the dog? Sure, I would have probably lost the tip of my nose to frostbite, but if it meant not talking about how much we need for groceries or how much I don't have in my pocket to spend on coffee over the next two weeks I'd be willing to make that sacrifice.
My biggest issue with paying the bills is not that I hate paying them. In fact, I like paying them because that means we no longer owe them money anymore. I've thankfully only had a single incident with a credit collector, and that was a hospital in the US looking for money my insurance company was supposed to pay them. This is the good part of having a responsible spouse who reminds me that a phone is more important than a pizza. No. My problem with paying bills is that it reminds me that I need to actually make some money like all those normal people with jobs.
But I don't want to be a normal person with a job! I don't wanna! I want to sit home and eat bonbons for the rest of my life and watch Ellen dance on TV and find out what happened to Ricardo once he got out of his second coma after being found in the water with his brother's boss' neice's dog's ex-groomer.
My best shot, as should be clearly apparent, is for me to make money writing my crap. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow? Starting to find someone who will buy my crap.
Then I get to be a sucker like all those working people.
Note to self: It would be wise not to refer to the editor as a sucker. It might be counterproductive to the whole finding a job thing.
No, you can't have him. I found him first and I'm keeping him. Plus, he thinks I'm beautiful and I can't seem to convince him otherwise, even first thing in the morning. That right there is worth getting all amazonian on any woman who tries to move in on him.
There's only one problem: every two weeks, he insists we sit down and pay the bills. We tuck the tiniest gremlins into their pods for the night and he fires up the dreaded spreadsheet. Every time that graph paper-like document opens up I just about spew vomit all over his keyboard. On budget nights I would happily hand him over to just about anyone if it got me out of the chore I hate the most.
How would I deal with money if it wasn't for Geekster? I would probably book a holiday somewhere warm to get away from all the stress. And that is why I'm not the crowned Queen of Budgets.
See, I hate dealing with money. It's one of the few things I really and truly suck at. However, I do have my strong points in the dollar world: I can shop for sales, I can avoid buying things we don't need, I can find ways to cut costs. But I absolutely hate to look at the actual numbers.
Geekster lost 10% of his pay a few weeks ago due to some cutbacks at work. Not everyone had their cheques reduced, however. The rest of them were laid off. Therefore, we try to smile when we say "pay cut" because it's currently an antonym for "fired". In this economy you have to roll with the punches, so roll we have. We just cry a little while we're rolling.
We always said we'd never live beyond our means. In fact, we had a master plan of not even living at our means. We had a cute little house, two cute little cars, two cute little children and one solid income. Life was good. It could have gone on that way forever.
What crumpled up our life plans and tossed them in the proverbial recycling bin? Lust, my friends. Pure lust. At some point just about three years ago, Geekster and I threw caution to the wind and did some naughty things in our cute little house without a cute little condom. Before we knew it, there were two cute little lines on a test indicating that our lives were about to change forever.
Again.
Don't get me wrong: We all adore our little Spawnling, hooves of Hades and all. He's by far the greatest ending to our reproductive tale. However, his arrival meant trading in my compact sedan for a budget-busting van and our compact house for one with enough room that we wouldn't be eyeing each other homicidally all the time. The last three years have been a whirlwind of change with a serious lack of spare change.
I also thought that was a great sentence. Thank you.
Tonight, after I went on my daily doggy walk, I came home to find my nemesis the spreadsheet grinning maliciously at me from Geekster's laptop. "Just paying the bills," my husband said with a sigh.
Drat. Why did I have to powerwalk tonight? Couldn't I have taken my time? Maybe took a leisurely stroll and frolicked in the park for a while with the dog? Sure, I would have probably lost the tip of my nose to frostbite, but if it meant not talking about how much we need for groceries or how much I don't have in my pocket to spend on coffee over the next two weeks I'd be willing to make that sacrifice.
My biggest issue with paying the bills is not that I hate paying them. In fact, I like paying them because that means we no longer owe them money anymore. I've thankfully only had a single incident with a credit collector, and that was a hospital in the US looking for money my insurance company was supposed to pay them. This is the good part of having a responsible spouse who reminds me that a phone is more important than a pizza. No. My problem with paying bills is that it reminds me that I need to actually make some money like all those normal people with jobs.
But I don't want to be a normal person with a job! I don't wanna! I want to sit home and eat bonbons for the rest of my life and watch Ellen dance on TV and find out what happened to Ricardo once he got out of his second coma after being found in the water with his brother's boss' neice's dog's ex-groomer.
My best shot, as should be clearly apparent, is for me to make money writing my crap. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow? Starting to find someone who will buy my crap.
Then I get to be a sucker like all those working people.
Note to self: It would be wise not to refer to the editor as a sucker. It might be counterproductive to the whole finding a job thing.