Mentally singing this song from the late Waylon Jennings’ CD, Cowboys, Sisters, Rascals and Dirt. Balancing the shop checkbook I see that a deposit didn’t show up on the statement. Heading to the bank to make another and discuss this, I had a suspicion and felt under the car floormat. There it was, from a month ago, along with a couple of unmailed bill payments.
Got home to find out that the home phone had been disconnected. I’d made sure the whole nine months of J’s unemployment that all bills were paid even more than on time; in advance sometimes. Just in case the last month was rough. Then I forgot about checking on them while waiting for the first semi-monthly paycheck. Now I have to sit down and write out a bunch of payments before the powers that hold us hostage to them disconnect us from our lives.
Meanwhile, on the Macromedia Flash front, I keep losing the second letter of my title word while I’m trying to stick it into a timeline so that the whole word floats and sways in wondrous activity.
There’s little doubt that stress over the last couple years has taken a toll, but it’s beginning to affect not only my mind, but my actions. Gotta get back on the highway somehow.
Cripes. This living thing is getting harder and harder to do.
I feel your pain today, Susan. I’m sitting on the bed wondering how the hell we are going to get through the rest of our lives when my husband can barely walk. After 25 years, this is getting old and we are both exhausted. Time for us all to flee to the woods and start that utopia….
Yeah, as Barbara mentioned in her comment on “Age”, it’s getting kind of scary as we step (or hobble) up to plate as the older generation. I think that we could accept some of the natural and normal ageing process crap if worry about financial security as well were not looming over our heads. That’s one thing that our folks didn’t worry about if they’d saved and gotten their homes paid off. Unless of course, they lived into their eighties and nineties and found out what healthcare and milk costs.