And I Thought It Couldn’t
I am still not writing the post I’ve been working on. I’m not ready. I’m still too angry. Even after nine years, I’m angry. And I refuse to give over a happy holiday, or Hubby’s birthday, to the selfishness of someone else. That post will wait at least until Saturday.
So I will talk tonight about my crappy day. I want to get this out before tomorrow. I have so much to be thankful for, I want to make sure to fully concentrate on that. But I must purge this tonight. So here it is. I thought it couldn’t get any worse. The money woes. The loneliness. It couldn’t, right?
Yes. Yes, it can.
I mentioned last night the money suckage. I told you of the final straw, the heater on the fritz. Oh, yeah. It’s on the fritz all right. A thousand bucks on the fritz. $1000.00. Yep, I’m done. I can’t afford to rub two nickels together because they are gone. Gone to buy a working heater.
Oh, and did I mention the parts won’t be here till Friday? At the earliest. And it’s cold. At least for Georgia and my pathetic Southern ass. A girly girl who never quite learned how to build a proper fire in our tiny fireplace. Well, I never learned, but I’m not really a girly girl.
Hubby has usually been the one to handle these things. Keeping roaring fires going. Making sure we’re all cozy and warm and safe. He can’t do that from 700 miles away. So I’ll be fitfully sleeping. Tending the hearth. Keeping us warm. We’ve moved to the living room, where the fireplace is. We have blankets and pillows and an alarm clock. It brings back memories of when I was around 9 or so. There was an ice storm in Atlanta that knocked out the power for a few days. We moved a mattress into the kitchen, where the fireplace was, and stayed warm, cooking on the fire (the stove and oven were electric), and I thought it was soooooo cool. I couldn’t understand why Mom was so freaked out.
Now, I get it.
I will take care of my family, split as it currently is. At least I am still connected to everyone and don’t have to cook over my pitiful fire. I can Tweet and email and listen to XM radio. I can game with Munchkin, as long as one of us is bundled tight against the cold in the office. And I can still call it an adventure.
We’ll worry about paying for everything later. Fiddle-dee-dee, tomorrow is another day.
