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Tuesday, April 3, 2012

FLAMES on the side of my face

Whenever I have to deal with our finances lately, I think of Mrs. White in the movie Clue:

"I hated her so much...FLAMES. Flames on the side of my face."

Normally, money is just money to me. Gotta track it and manage it, blah blah blah. Then last fall we discovered the pitfalls of our self-employment.

We had just come back from a trip that depleted our resources when our winter utility bills exploded and Baby Flails-a-lot landed in the hospital with an infected lymph node. Blew our expenses threw the roof. (Thanks, craptastic rental and even more craptastic self-employed insurance!). And then our client's accounting department lost their damn minds and decided to stop paying us for months. (You have an invoice for us? Bwahahahah!)

All of this became a perfect storm of events to land us in short-term, but deep debt. We're not at the shop-at-Grocery-Outlet time, thank God. Still rolling in organic meat chicken so things are well. Everything is sorted out, scheduled and budgeted. We'll pay it off in the next six months and then be rolling in organic beef and fish once more.

This state of affairs does, however, bring to an end my Fantasy Family Vacation in Paris. We had planned to use (shudder) our frequent flier miles with United, but my friend took so long to secure a location for her Paris wedding  that all the good cheap seats were gone by the time we could book them. Reassessing the devastation to our budget for the year, there was no way in hell we were paying for flights and housing for all of us. Even using the cheapest options it would mean vacationing while owing big debts. Not gonna happen in this house. Bunk that shit.

So our trip fell victim to belt tightening. Or rather, Husband-cat's and Baby Flails-a-lot's trips did..Turns out we have enough miles to send me. Right when I had made peace with not going, Husband-cat suggested we ship me solo.

Him: You know you could go and I could stay home with the baby.

Me: You'd let me go to Paris for two weeks alone?!

Him: Um. Hell no. You can go for a week alone.

Me: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...wait am I a terrible mother for being excited?

Him: It's a week. You spend 24 hours with her every day. And with me. It's not that deep. Plus, I'll be off work so me and Baby Flails-a-lot can spend the week playing.

Me: Okay, then! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE---

Him: Please stop.

End of Fantasy Family Vacation and start of Fantasy Solo Vacation: All Chocolate, All The Time.

2 comments:

  1. You better bring him something sexy home, or wine, or chocolate. Whatever he would prefer. He deserves it for that one. Rach

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sexy lingerie made out of chocolate and cheese it is!

      Hmmm, maybe more isn't better in this situation.

      Delete

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