Tweet In an attempt to get Big V over to the book I'm in called Personal Finances I've created a very strict budget. (Don't worry; he gets bread and water from time to time.) Big V has a very relaxed attitude when it comes to life, specifically towards money... hey, we might get hit by a bus and die tomorrow he laments regularly. I'm more of the but what happens if we live to be 103 years old? I don't want to eat cat food! type. Plus, I actually do plan on living to see my 103rd birthday. Really. I do.
Anyway, a couple months ago we sat down and discussed our finances. It started with Big V asking where the hell all his money went and ended with me clinging to his leg sobbing please don't let them take the baby! I really like that one! In between we talked about how much day care costs really were this summer. With two kids in daycare full time we were shelling out $1,000 per month. It sounds insane.... but then you do the math and realize some poor sucker watched two kids for ten hours a day at a measly five bucks an hour. Now that sucker was the insane one.
So The Budget was created. And we pledged our allegiance to The Budget and pinky swore that we would each follow it to the letter and I only cheated once after I found enough change in the dirty laundry which allowed me to go to McDonald's for their McChicken sandwich. With no lettuce. Or "no shred" as they refer to it in their fast food lingo. Because let's be honest, that lettuce always gets warm and soggy and that is just wrong because everyone knows lettuce was meant to be crispy, not wilting, so it has no business being on such a superb sandwich.
So this past Friday night I was paying bills and doing The Budget - yes, Friday night - because The Budget said I couldn't go anywhere ever again until some stupid credit card bill got paid in full and I always follow The Budget. (Except for that one McChicken sandwich time; which was necessary, because I had to do a lot of laundry to get that dollar. People in my house are either cheap or smart enough to check their pockets.) Anyway, I was paying the bills and plugging numbers in like a little accountant and I was all NO WAY! We are almost caught up! And Big V was all NO WAY! Are you serious? And we looked over the numbers and high-fived and I was all now I don't have to sneak the McChickens anymore! and Big V was all What'chu talkin' about, Willis? and I was all focus, honey, we're talking about The Budget.
And so it was that a plan was hatched to kick it into high gear. A little bit extra work in this last week and all the bills would be paid to date.
But then Big V decided not to follow The Budget. Because no where in The Budget does it mention anything at all about having your knee blow up to the size of a cantaloupe and developing some creepy weird infection where the doctor prescribes two different antibiotics strong enough to make the pharmacist question whether or not he should even be among the living and strict orders that if a fever or diarrhea make an appearance he is to go straight to the ER without blinking and that is not part of The Budget!
So right now, as of this moment, we need $258.01 to bring every bill up to current status but Big V can barely move. He shouldn't be working. He can't work. Which means he can't make the $258.01 we need. And he better not end up in ICU because if that happens I might feel conflicted about choosing to visit him or taking the opportunity of his absence to throw out all those ugly, dingy Hanes t-shirts he wears all the time. (They're under shirts; they're meant to be worn under other shirts. Duh!)