Financial Times

I'm conflicted. I know that part of the reason the government is sending out the "Economic Stimulus" checks is to pacify a discontented populace. I often refer to the checks as the "No, there's no war" checks, or "The dirty monkey's dirty money" checks. My dad has already stated that he will be donating his check to a charity. Good for my dad. My situation, however, is a bit different.

Speaking plainly, I'm broke. Once I pay my rent, I'm going to have a net worth of approximately $12.47. I'm not a huge spender; I can easily not buy shoes, or clothes, or even (this one hurts) books. I can pack my lunches, eat leftovers for dinner, and drink work coffee. What I cannot do is drive to work with no fuel, or allow my cats to starve because I can't keep them in kibble.

So, I really want that fucking check and it isn't being mailed until the end of June. This does me no good. Plus, I really hate that I want that fucking check so bad. I wish I could get that fucking check and sign it right over to my non-profit, or Planned Parenthood, or another worthy group but that's not going to happen. The best I can do is pledge to use the money to pay rent, my PGW bill, or the credit card bill. For some reason, I really don't want to use that money to buy things that I wouldn't have normally. No mattresses, tires, or any of the other things that the advertisers are trying desperately to convince me that I need.

Bathroom Watch: Day 3

Massive hole in ceiling? Check.

Nasty soggy debris in tub and on floor? Check.

Complete and utter lack of surprise? Check.

Bathroom Update

I was sitting at the Annual Meeting for the non-profit where I am a board member, and all I wanted to do was go home. A massive headache was pulsing behind the thick bone of my forehead, my ass was numb from the cheap plastic seats, and I was concerned that the elderly lady next to me was going to flop into my lap. I wanted my sweats and a smoke and I wanted them now.

The meeting finally broke up (and somewhat earlier than expected) and I rapidly made my escape. Aside from another driver with the mistaken assumption that he was at a 4-way stop intersection, the drive home proceeded without incident. At about the half-way point, I wondered if any progress had been made on my bathroom ceiling. I cautioned myself not to get too excited.

When I got home, I dropped my stuff and walked directly to the bathroom. Lo and behold, there was no apparent progress on the ceiling. There was, however, fresh mess, so I know that someone was in my bathroom. Whether it was to fix the ceiling, or to merely scatter new debris, I may never know. I pitched a bit of a fit - stomping and whining like a two-year old. I fed my cats and sat down to blog.

Here's the rub: I had a topic all picked out. I was quoted Elizabeth Kubler-Ross at the meeting. After doing a bit of checking, I discovered that the quote was actually a combination of two different quotes. I realized that when the quotes were read separately, Ms. Kubler-Ross was saying something very different. I was all riled up about the misquote. It went something like: "If we can raise just one generation to know unconditional love there will be fewer Hitlers." I started thinking about the nature side of the nature v. nurture argument and my Intro to Soc classes came flooding back. I was ready to discuss.

Then I saw my bathroom. I don't even have the energy to clean up the new mess. I KNEW it would be dirty when I got home, but part of me had all my fingers and toes crossed. I know I'm going to have to clean it before I go to bed because who wants to deal with a gritty bathroom floor, or toilet, or sink first thing in the a.m.? Big, fat "Not I" coming from my corner. Sigh, off I go.