March 13: Quite Ruined, Hope Yet, Bills

"We are quite ruined?"

"No.  There is hope yet, Caroline."

Not checking in yet, but I have reservations

I'm sure not many people will recognize this little exchange.  It occurs in Stave Four (the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come chapter) and involves a young couple that owes Scrooge a lot of money.  They are obviously at the end of their ropes, and the man has just returned with news.  His wife, Caroline, is sure they are going to end up in debtors' prison or the poor house.  We 21st century Americans don't know too much about things like debtors' prison or the poor house, but, let me assure you, neither places were a day at Elizabeth Arden (unless Elizabeth Arden has bars on the windows, manacles, gruel, and armed guards).  The man, however, knows that Scrooge has died, buying them enough time to make good on their debt.  Caroline still has visions of jail and homelessness dancing in her head.

This morning, I had a Caroline moment, thinking of bills that have been collecting, unpaid, on our dining room table.  It was total panic, convincing myself that Scrooge was banging on our front door, metaphorically, demanding immediate payment of my financial obligations.  I won't kid you.  It scared the shit out of me.  Still does.

Recently, I have made no secret in this blog of my family's money problems.  Since my wife's unemployment checks ran out, our bank account has slowly dwindled.  For a while, it was only mildly alarming.  Then it became distressing.  Now, it's full-blown terrifying.

The good news is that my wife started a new job yesterday.  She'll be working full-time for the next two weeks.  Then she will be working part-time in the afternoons.  We will have more money coming in soon.  I feel like Caroline's husband.  There is hope yet.  We just have to hold off the wolves for a few more weeks.

My wife and I aren't extravagant spenders.  We don't eat prime rib and lobster for dinner.  Last night, we had meatloaf burgers.  I hate being behind in paying bills.  It gives me bad dreams at night and stress headaches during the day.  It's been a long time since I haven't gone to bed worrying about our money woes.  When I get up in the morning, I usually cut my shower short to reduce our water bill.  Thank God we don't live in Victorian England.  My daughter would be working in a blacking factory right now for sure.

Saint Marty isn't quite ruined.  Not yet.  There's still hope.

January 6: Scrooge Moment, Dentist Appointment, Cleaning

A Scrooge moment.  Cover your eyes!

Yes, I had a Scrooge moment this afternoon.  It was when my wife and I sat down and started subtracting amounts from our checking account.  Car payment.  Groceries.  Water bill.  Dance tuition.  I saw the deposit from my paycheck dwindle and ebb.  By the time we were done, I had to transfer money from our savings to cover everything, and there ain't that much in savings.

I started to panic, hyperventilate, and sputter.  I became Ebenezer Scrooge.  This week of vacation suddenly seemed like a colossal waste of money, especially when I could have been earning some overtime.  I wasn't a pretty sight. 

Before I left for my dentist appointment, my wife said to me, "You better be careful.  You really are going to turn into Scrooge."  I wish I'd been witty enough to say, "Bah humbug" or "God bless us, everyone."  I don't really recall what my response was.  It was probably something like, "Yeah, well, yeah."

Then I went and had my teeth cleaned.  It seemed an appropriate way to end the afternoon.  And, actually, it did brighten my frame of mind substantially.  I really like the people at my dentist office.  The hygienist and I talk about books.  The receptionist and I joke around.  The dentist could make a root canal enjoyable.  By the time I left, my teeth were sparkling, and my mood had greatly improved.

I spent a good portion of what was left of the afternoon cleaning my house, which hasn't been cleaned in almost two weeks, with the holidays and everything.  Cleaning generally puts me in a good mood, as well.  I did break my Swiffer in the process.  That kind of sucked.  For the most part, however, I have recovered from my Scrooge moment.

Saint Marty is ready for the weekend.