Just Desserts

Never again will I write a post entitled “Happy Meal.” Or publicly celebrate an uptick in my satisfaction in any way. It’s clearly too risky.

Here are some of the things that have happened in the last three days:

  • We found out that my husband’s debit card was compromised. But, before we did, the thief got most of the money in our checking account.
  • Our credit union informed us that it would take at least ten days to get said money back. After we filled out their forms. Which we couldn’t, because our printer was broken.
  • We had no money to pay our mortgage, which was now late. I had several tearful and humiliating phone calls with our home loan company. They talked to me like I was a crazy vagabond, and offered no solutions. Only after the third such phone call did they mention that there was a fifteen day grace period. I broke down, sobbed that they were sadists for not telling me sooner, and hung up on them.
  • In a panic, wanting fast money, I sold a stock that Mike later informed me was “the wrong one to let go of.” It’s too late to change it. We won’t get the money for days.
  • I also sold Myra-Jean’s balance bike, because she’s had it for two years and never used it. Plus it was always underfoot. And–ahem–money is money. When Mike heard about this he informed me, ruefully,  that it was a shame. “She was finally really, really into that thing.” I am the asshole mom of the century.
  • I came up with a fundraising scheme for MJ’s school.  It involved gathering used clothes and shoes and selling them to a company I found online. I announced said idea to the community with great fanfare, thinking “I am a genius.” The next day I learned that this company and its ilk are basically destroying Africa.
  • The weather has been hellish. If it were any hotter outside I could dry fruit on our front steps.
  • I got my first paycheck. It barely covered the DWP bill.
  • Our tax return seems to be lost. I wonder if the identity thief got that, too.
  • Doing traffic school online is taking forever. Plus, it has made me paranoid and fearful. I am obsessed with collisions. Everywhere I look I see one about to happen. I pause for so long at stop signs that people drive around me. I peruse other motorists like a gazelle watching for tigers. Everywhere, I see an impending attack. The joy is gone.
  • Because of the above, I have no time to watch “Orange is the New Black.”
  • All of our customers at the store are Chinese. I don’t speak Mandarin. I speak Latin. There are few, if any, ancient Romans looking for high-end jewelry. The result? Veni, vidi, no vici.

Picture 4

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