July 24: Saint Marty and the Temple of Doom

Yes, even though I said I wasn't going to worry in my last post, I've spent a good portion of my day (you guessed it!) worrying.

I made the mistake of checking my stub for this Friday's paycheck and was caught a little by surprise.  I was expecting it to be small, but I wasn't expecting microscopic.  I haven't received a paycheck this small since I was working a minimum-wage job at a book store.  I've been in a tailspin since this morning.

I don't want to say I have an impending sense of doom, but I definitely see dark clouds on the horizon.  I hate living payday to payday.  There's nothing worse than swiping my debit card at the gas station and standing at the pump, praying my card gets accepted.  I'm a little weary thinking like this all day.

I know you don't want to hear about my troubles.  You don't read this blog to get a litany of woes.  I'm sorry.  I promise that tomorrow I'll be more upbeat.  I'll be witty and charming.  I'll be the freakin' Gene Kelly of bloggers.

Tonight, however, Saint Marty's singin' in the rain.

If you close your eyes and block your ears, I look and sound exactly like Gene Kelly