My newly found tight-wad budget is screaming at me from the bottom line of my bank account. So why am I suddenly accosted by an insatiable itching in my fingers to twirl al dente pasta around my fork while listening to a quartet of strings over a bottle of expensive wine in a low cut Prada gown at a five star restaurant?
And just so you know, I am much more of the...how do I put this? Cautious spender of my household. Besides my cat Mojo, who has no pockets and therefore no pocketbook, I am the penny pinching, don't buy name brand nothing type of girl.
The adage that says you only want what you can't have seems cuttingly apropos.
Do I really want to spend money I don't have? No. Do I want to spend money that I wish I had? Absolutely!
You can't order a cup of Joe or go to the bathroom without hearing about the economic downturn. Well, I want to fly in the face of the media. I desperately want to go out and boost our economy. I want to spend money- kick back with a vodka martini laughing and petting my Great Dane in front of the fireplace, while tasting Abondance cheese from the Rhone-Alps region in France...the problem?
First of all, I am lactose intolerant and secondly...even though I detest how the media brutally punches all of us repeatedly in the head- just in case we somehow forgot that we are experiencing financial hardships peppered with exaggerations, falsities and scare tactics- I gotta say right now I feel the pinch.
Its aggravating.
And I am also becoming a smidgen bitter. One my way to work this morning, I saw an uber thin blonde, dressed to the nines climbing into a Hummer with rims, her blonde hair waving in the wind, and her Gucci Luggage being handled with kitten gloves by the pubescent bell boy.
I couldn't help but wonder, doesn't she know that I can't even afford to get a latte? Doesn't she know that I am skipping Christmas this year? Doesn't she know that the layoff rates are staggering? Doesn't she know that Hummers are the ugliest cars...not to mention the Army's choice for transportation, which may as well serve as a pro-war bumper sticker, without even needing the sticker?
Now understand- My husband spent a year in Iraq. This is not a protest blog. But would I be protesting and screaming and picketing the White House if he had not returned to me safely? Yes. So I understand and have empathy for those that have suffered such loss. I can't look at a Hummer these days without thinking about the boys that are still over there.
Obviously, Blondie hasn't made the connection. And then she drove away.
And I realized, of course she doesn't know. Why should she know, nevertheless care?
And then I was thankful. Thankful I had a job. Thankful that I have tact. Thankful that I have a husband who is strong and able. Thankful that I live in a city that I love, with people that I care for, and have a roof over my head and a car that works and a fridge that has food.
And now I just realized, I feel somewhat ashamed. Becuase even though lately I have fantasized about spending thousands in one stop, and drinking champagne and not having to worry about the bottom line, and feeling free from the tension of tight budgets...I am happy.
I am happy, and I don't drive a ridiculous murdering tank.
You can't order a cup of Joe or go to the bathroom without hearing about the economic downturn. Well, I want to fly in the face of the media. I desperately want to go out and boost our economy. I want to spend money- kick back with a vodka martini laughing and petting my Great Dane in front of the fireplace, while tasting Abondance cheese from the Rhone-Alps region in France...the problem?
First of all, I am lactose intolerant and secondly...even though I detest how the media brutally punches all of us repeatedly in the head- just in case we somehow forgot that we are experiencing financial hardships peppered with exaggerations, falsities and scare tactics- I gotta say right now I feel the pinch.
Its aggravating.
And I am also becoming a smidgen bitter. One my way to work this morning, I saw an uber thin blonde, dressed to the nines climbing into a Hummer with rims, her blonde hair waving in the wind, and her Gucci Luggage being handled with kitten gloves by the pubescent bell boy.
I couldn't help but wonder, doesn't she know that I can't even afford to get a latte? Doesn't she know that I am skipping Christmas this year? Doesn't she know that the layoff rates are staggering? Doesn't she know that Hummers are the ugliest cars...not to mention the Army's choice for transportation, which may as well serve as a pro-war bumper sticker, without even needing the sticker?
Now understand- My husband spent a year in Iraq. This is not a protest blog. But would I be protesting and screaming and picketing the White House if he had not returned to me safely? Yes. So I understand and have empathy for those that have suffered such loss. I can't look at a Hummer these days without thinking about the boys that are still over there.
Obviously, Blondie hasn't made the connection. And then she drove away.
And I realized, of course she doesn't know. Why should she know, nevertheless care?
And then I was thankful. Thankful I had a job. Thankful that I have tact. Thankful that I have a husband who is strong and able. Thankful that I live in a city that I love, with people that I care for, and have a roof over my head and a car that works and a fridge that has food.
And now I just realized, I feel somewhat ashamed. Becuase even though lately I have fantasized about spending thousands in one stop, and drinking champagne and not having to worry about the bottom line, and feeling free from the tension of tight budgets...I am happy.
I am happy, and I don't drive a ridiculous murdering tank.
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