I've had a riveting Saturday so far that has consisted of paying bills and making up a lesson plan for my new student, as part of the literacy volunteering I am doing. I have met the person I'll be tutoring, and oh, I wish I could tell you just everything but (a), I signed a confidentiality thing and (8) it seems sort of rude anyway. Oh, let me talk about someone's literacy behind his or her back so I can be fascinating on my blog! Yeah! You go, June.
If there's anything Ned hates it's the phrase "You go, girl," which of course makes me want to use it Constantinople-ly. Or maybe it's my boss who hates that phrase. I get them confused now because they are remarkably similar in a lot of ways and because thanks to the new open office plan at work my boss and I are right next to each other, which, Dear Boss: Thanks for hampering my Facebook time.
Have you all appreciated how I've stayed off Facebook for Lent? You know who's over me? God.
Oh my shattered ass, NONE of this is why I called you all here today. I CALLED you here to talk about the other day, when I cried and threw popcorn. Y'all seem to enjoy hearing about my more nutbar moments, and this here is one of them.
Since Marvin left while I was unemployed, I have not been what you'd call flush with the cash. And then once I DID get employed again, I had to try to catch up, which hasn't been easy, and I've been paying this mortgage on my own, and see above re "hasn't been easy."
To add insult to injury, I got taxed on my unemployment checks last year (thank you, Ronald Regan. What a stellar idea!) and for the first half of last year, I was working, but on a contractor basis, so none of my taxes were taken out and I was too broke to set any money aside.
So, tight. Is what I'm saying to you. I'm able to pay my bills each month and my credit score is good, but I owe on taxes and I owe one of my relatives and while I'm chipping away slowly at those extra debts, I'm not doing that thing every month where you roll around naked in all your cash and have sex on top of it. Does anyone actually do that? Like, is that a thing everyone really does once they're in a certain tax bracket? If so, please send me photos. We'll have Naked in Your Money Day on Bye Bye Pie.
Now, usually I am okay with this reality. I mean, I do HAVE a job, which is more than a lot of people can say. I have a roof over my head. Okay, a roof I can't really afford, but still. And you KNOW I am stupid sometimes with my cash: fortunately, a ton of you hated your Latisse and ended up sending it to me, which SCORE! So I've not bought a lot of that, but you know I spend a couple-hundred bucks on Botox twice a year.
(Yes, you can get it that cheap. Only go to a board-certified plastic surgeon, but look for specials AND get Dysport, not Botox brand.)
(Rat Poison Tips From June.)
So, normally I am okay. Yes, I am pretty broke, but things could be a lot worse. But last week, Tallulah's vet bill sent me over the top, and payday is Monday and as of Wednesday night of this week I had negative $30. You go, girl.
I had four eggs, seven sticks of low-fat cheddar cheese, some Shredded Wheat, four packets of oatmeal and some Greek yogurt. Oh, and half a jar of spaghetti sauce.
Ned had said he'd make dinner for me last Thursday, and while I did not give him every detail of my sitch, I wrote him, "Oh, good. Cause I'm down to four eggs till Monday." But then at the end of the day, he said, "My brother is in town and wants to have dinner. I know you're meeting your literacy person but maybe you could join us after."
But the thing is, I couldn't, because if I did that, Ned's whole family would have had to wait 45 minutes for me to show up, and I didn't want to do that, nor did I want to feel rushed. It was the first time I MET the person I'll be working with, and I wanted to talk as long as it took, you know?
So that day, I'd had a packet of oatmeal that I had at work, two poached eggs for lunch (I didn't have bread) and one stick of cheese. I felt like Audrey Hepburn or something. Who can eat that little and not want to pop the head off your dog and suck out his brains by the end of the day?
As I was driving back from my meeting, I thought, Ooo! I have popcorn! I know I have a jar of popcorn kernels in the cupboard! I'll eat THAT for dinner! I was getting so excited at the thought. I got home and dashed to the cupboard.
I had? Maybe 30 kernels of popcorn left.
And THAT is when I threw the jar of popcorn down and just started crying. I'm 48 years old and scrounging for food. Sometimes this feels very, you know, discouraging. I was in a serious crying jag when I called Ned, who stepped outside to take my call so he could hear every nuance of my weeping. "June, it's going to be okay," said Ned, who is normal. How many times have I ended sentences with "said Ned, who is normal" do you think? Forty? Ninety hundred?
"I won't let you go hungry," he said. "I'll come right over after dinner, but I have to go now because my salmon's getting cold."
That made me cry harder. God, salmon sounded delicious. I ended up making, in a very small pan, the 30 popcorn kernels, and ate those. They were sort of delicious! Then I boiled the remaining eggs and ate one of those too, making my daily consumption of eggs that day three, and next thing you know I'll be in the prison scene from Cool Hand Luke.
Ned DID come over after and was very nice to me, and the next morning I looked in my purse and he'd sneaked $30 in there, and thank heavens I got paid somehow last night, so I gave him back his $30 I hadn't spent. I managed to live on MORE cheese sticks and yogurt yesterday, then Ned made the dinner he's promised and I was like that scene in Nine and a Half Weeks.
The whole reason I'm telling this story is because (a) I can't wait for the santimonious "I manage MY money, June, and you suck" people to come out as they always do and (2) to tell you the best part.
Yesterday I weighed in at Weight Watchers? I gained half a pound.
