Author, Chicklit, Drama, Indie Author, Uncategorized, women

When it Rains……


I drive a piece of junk, but it’s my piece of junk and the hubby had an incident with it. It had been raining quite hard and some roads flooded and unless you had an ark, driving was sketchy. The Darling Man who works midnights found himself suddenly in a lot of standing water with the piece of junk. Of course the aforementioned junk stalled out not wanting to restart no matter how much coaxing, kind words or the promise of better higher priced ‘engine cleaning’ fuel would flatter it into turning over. He had no choice it had to be towed.

Now I am the one in the family that worries about money. I know where every penny goes to what bills and what costs what. My father used to say that I am so cheap I would squeeze a nickel just to hear the buffalo squeal. He was hilarious.

Buffalo Nickel for my readers under 50

Buffalo Nickel for my readers under 50

Now I admit I’m the Scrooge at Christmas time since I’m the one who sets the limit on how much we spend. Birthdays for me are also no surprise. I know how much he’s going to spend before even he has time to think about it thanks to real time banking apps. Ah the technology for the obsessed! Now it’s not that he can’t handle money, I just believe I’m better at it. His approach to money is a day to day enterprise with no thought to the future. I on the other hand obsess about the future of our money which makes for sleepless nights and heartburn. I don’t recommend it!.

My inner Ebenezer Scrooge

My inner Ebenezer Scrooge

Something in my genetic makeup won’t allow me to relax on the subject. Leave it in the hands of God I hear all the time and for the most part I believe that. For the most part. I have another theory, checks and balances with a little karma thrown in. After recently purchasing a few items for myself that I would describe as wants not needs, I got sick with a flare up of an ongoing medical issue that put me out of work for a week and I will not get paid for it. Now the piece of junk is in the repair shop awaiting diagnosis and an estimate it’s little rain bath is going to cost us. My self deprecating brain has reared it’s nasty head and had told itself this all happened because I wanted a new purse!

kar·ma
 [ krmə ]
  1. actions determining future state: in Hindu and Buddhist philosophy, the quality of somebody’s current and future lives as determined by that person’s behavior in this and in previous lives
  2. atmosphere: the atmosphere radiated by a place, situation, person, or object
  3. destiny: destiny or fate

Searching yet again for answers to the question of was it the purse purchase? The universe took pity on me and pointed something out. I read something my pea brain recognized as profound. Money is a game, don’t argue over it. Learn how to play the game together.

Wow, my limited synapses started to fire up and absorb the simple message! my marriage may be saved yet! OK my marriage was never in danger and I’m a drama queen I know, but the anger I felt at him for dunking the piece of junk in a flooded street like a donut in coffee, thinking in that ever present man brain of his that he could just drive through it, lingered on. Then my own anger at myself, if I had just not gotten the purse which started this ball rolling in the first place!

Was it really the purse? or just the universe messing with me? reminding me that obsessing over something as common as money is a waste of time. Crap is going to happen and happen when we least want it. Let’s be honest no one plans ahead of time to have crap happen, that’s why it’s crap. My misplaced blame on him for causing the local flood of biblical proportions is unreasonable of course and then there’s the old saying that popped into my insignificant thought pattern. This to shall pass and a new purse is a woman’s right, like new shoes!

Simple lessons for life’s woes.

I also need to stop calling the car a piece of junk. I think it’s feelings get hurt. Seriously, calling it that sends a message to the universe that I want just that, a piece of junk so from here on out it will be called the Glorious Chariot!

Now you’ll have to excuse me while I make an apology breakfast and teach the Darling Man a new game.

P.S We found out the car is dead, funeral services will be held.

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