Money Matters: It's a Brave New World and I Don't Belong in It

My dear husband, j^C, is not the type of person who uses cash money (G). He only carries a debit card, and he claims that he is able to keep a running tally of his balance . . . in his mind. Would that I had that sort of mental prowess, but sadly, I am the type of mere mortal who does much better carrying only cash in order to keep my (egregious) spending in check. I also come from a small town where there are places that plain and simple don't take plastic (a fact that vexes j^C to no end). For these reasons, I try to keep a fair amount of cash around. 

Then, there are emergencies.

Guys, this is what money looks like.

It was Thursday afternoon. That Sprout was home sick, and Cody had a vet appointment. So, I had the dog leash in one hand, the Sprout in the other, keys, phone, and debit card haphazardly balanced in between. 

After I loaded Cody into the hatchback, I placed the keys and the card on top of the car and strapped That Sprout into her car seat. I grabbed the keys and the phone while I quickly checked the mail. Then, I got in the car and drove away. 

With the debit card on the roof of the car.

I realized what I had done before I got to the highway, but by the then it was too late. The card was gone, most likely blown into the gutter by the stupid amount of wind that was blowing at the time. Why wouldn't it be? That card was my only means of getting money - why shouldn't I have lost it in the wind? 

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be so bad. Call the bank, "Hey guys, funny story, lost my debit card. Need a new one. By, the way, can I withdraw some cash? Yeah? OK, Thanks!" 

Good Idea.

But these were not normal circumstances.

First of all, the debit card had j^C's name on it. So, I lost his card. For his account. Which I am not on. And of course, he's gone on the magical mystery tour, so it's not like I can just get them to send me another one. They want a copy of the Power of Attorney. That's easy - just take it down to the bank and - wait. There is no bank to take it down to. It's entirely online - there's one branch office, in Texas. I would have to fax it. But, I don't have any money to fax it, because all the money is in the bank. That's online. That I'm not authorized on. And round we go. 

Now, I still have a Bank of America account. There's zero dollars in it, but I figured, surely I could just wire some money into it. I have all the login info for the online bank account. That meant I had the access to the account and routing numbers. Surely I could just do an online transfer. If only it were that easy. No, they want you to call. As deep as I like to pretend my voice is, there's no way I can pull off that I'm j^C. "We'll need your POA, ma'am."

Christ and Moses on a fucking cracker - ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! I have no money and no way to get it, you fucks!

Still, I had a plan. "I'll get cash back off my SAMS credit card!" That was a no go. It's worked every other time I ever tried, but the day I need it, not so much. 

Still optimistic, I think "No worry, I'll use money gram to wire myself the money I need." Money gram killed my web browser. It killed my web browser five times. In a row. By this point, I was getting desperate. Then, I remembered that I had j^C's new credit card . . . somewhere. I began a frantic search. I could buy a money order to pay the babysitter with the credit card and then have that until the new debit card came. Funny thing about money orders - apparently, they're "cash only" transactions. 

Hahaha. 

Fuck. 

Bad idea.

So, presently, I owe my child care provider a cool $88 that I can't make good on til I get the new card. It’s in the mail, as j^C was able to call and order and new one, and at least I have the credit card for everything else. I could kick myself for not having cash right now. 

What's really sad? Even 5 years ago, I would have never ever dreamed this could be a problem. I loved going to the bank and cashing my checks. That's one of the only things that ever made me feel like an adult. Now, everything is direct deposit. There's not even a physical bank for me to go to. 

"I hate that they don't take debit," j^C says. "Cash is pointless," he says. 

Yeah . . . it's real pointless to me right now. If we still lived in City by the Lake, FL this would have never happened. All the businesses are so small that the cost of the debit machine isn't worth it. You must have cash. Thank God the biggest issue I have is that I owe for childcare. Where would I be if I had needed a prescription filled or something? Lesson learned: Gotta get that paper, son. 

Diddy don't got these problems. He knows it's all about the Benjamins.

The Zen of a Clean Floor

And so it begins. Source

I have said it once (somewhere on the internet, I swear) that nothing makes me happier than having a clean floor. My whole house could be falling down around my ears, and if the floors are clean, I can "Keep Calm and Carry On."

It's strange, the happiness and the comfort I get from having a clean floors. It's also strange that I know this - have acknowledged it more than once - and yet, I can't seem to keep the motherfuckers clean. The dog debacle of 2012 has not helped matters, but even before I was ankle deep in things that vacated my dog's stomach, I couldn't manage to keep them clear of dirt. 

I could blame this on the dogs if I wanted. They do bring the dirt in, after all. That's not the problem though. The problem is that if I let the floor go for one day, it's a decadent spiral, and before I know it, I've got the Valley of the Kings in my living room - little doggy footprints dotting the sand. It's unpleasant to say the least. 

You try vacuuming this. Source

"So, vacuum it," you say. 

"No shit," say I. 

That's not the point. Of course it gets vacuumed. And mopped. And all the other crap I have to do to the floor before I can once again be at peace. The point is, that letting it go for one day would be fine. Those dogs bring in a lot of dirt, this is true, but they don't convert the place to an indoor sandbox over night. But one day turns to two, then to four; before long, a week has gone by and I'm picking sand out of my teeth. 

It's that first day, the break in the system that is my undoing. I do very well with consistency in my "systems". Once one part of the system breaks down though, everything becomes utter chaos. In a nutshell, I am not a problem solver. Lately, I am beginning to realize this more and more. One little thing in my life goes awry and I fall to pieces. With important things (read: things where people will see my reaction) I try very hard to appear that I am coping.

"You don't have what I need and you are the only people who carry it? *Smiles* Okay, I'll figure something else out. Thanks!"

Inside, I'm going:

 "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! SonofabitchIhopeyoufuckingdieeatshitanddieyoufuckingcuntweevil!!!!!"

With things where people won't see me react, it's more of a slow disintegration by way of avoidance. 

Day 1: I'm too tired to do the floors.

Day 2: Well, they could go another day.

Day 3: Ignoring the floors by reading that book I've been avoiding for six months.

Day 4: Boy, this book is good . . .

Day 5: How'd all this dirt get in here? Guess I'll sweep . . . this is futile.

Day 6: Where's the vacuum? Shit. Out of vacuum bags.

Soon . . . Source

Day 7: What do you mean you won't have any bags til Friday?!?!

Day 8: I am a failure.

Day 9: I can pretend there's no dirt.

Day 10: Still pretending . . .

Day 11: If I don't spend any time at home, then I won't notice. Say, why don't I have any clean dishes?

Day 12: You know, I'm down to, like, 1 pair of underwear . . . think I'll go shopping for new clothes. It's easier.

Day 13: Vacuum Bag Friday!

Day 14: OMG WHERE DO I BEGIN?!?! HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN?!?!

Then, here we are. Source

And all of this could so easily be avoided if would just vacuum and mop every day. Or, if I became a better problem solver. Yeah. That one.