The Financial State of the House of Snee and Other Fine Things

So I somehow stumbled on a blog about money, and managing it, and blah blah getting your act together and et cetera. It really spoke to me, as financial tips usually do, and I tend to get all worked up about turning over a new leaf. And by the way, I'm talking about the plain-as-the-nose-on-your-face kind of financial tips, not, like, stock market advice or anything. That would be laughable. I'm talking about tips like "don't spend more than you make" and "don't buy something at the grocery until you check to see if you already have it." We have, by the way, an entire shelf in our kitchen dedicated to rice of all kinds.

I got the bug in my ear when I stumbled across mint, and then others and others and then pearbudget, and I got all worked up about making a spreadsheet, because YES! I can make a spreadsheet and make it do exactly what I want. Take that, Quicken. (Quicken that I have not updated for, um, I'm not telling you.) I browsed and surfed and researched and was really On To Something, smooshing together a lot of other ideas, something that was going to instantly make my life easier and help me save for those built-in shelves in the dining room quicker than you can blink an eye. It was going to be GLORIOUS! And I would be MAKING IT MYSELF! And figuring out how much money we spend on the dumb things that add up, and coming clean about all of it, coming out, confessing and addressing. On the road to being at peace about my checking account.

Oh, and as an aside, A. does not generally give a rat's ass about the checking account. Either we have money or we don't. It's that simple for him. In our case, very simple, as it is always the latter. I tell you this so you'll know what a solo journey it is, this sporadic, frantic quest for restfulness in our financial house.

I started a spreadsheet with great gusto. I plotted and planned and categorized and thought and even added a few formulas. And then the office erupted in a conversation about babies and I couldn't stay away, needed to race out to the front room and impart my motherly wisdom about this and that and the other. And now? I closed the spreadsheet and I've moved on. Taa Daa! Brief Action with No Follow Through -- my general mode of operation-- may not produce long-term results, but it sure will make you sick of something enough to ignore the problem.

A few words about television:
There is a crime show / murder entertainment ban at my house, where we do not watch Criminal this and CSUV whatever. For one, it throws my anxiety through the roof, and for two (related), I am of the belief that witnessing murder-- fake murder even-- on such regular basis is poisonous.

So the other night I set out to organize the mountains and mountains of stained/ outgrown and never-worn/ fancy-pants baby clothes hanging around in box after box all over the house. And not having cable, I had little to watch, and made an exception for Law and Order because I already had my shit spread out on the living room floor and because when I turned it on I really couldn't follow the story and didn't think I'd get too invested in it.

But it turns out that this particular episode was about something really, really horrible that happened to little children. So I say outloud, FUCK YOU, LAW AND ORDER. I just wanted to fold some damn baby clothes with a little distraction and now I'm thinking too much about your stupid, toxic show. You are double-banned.

On another note, LOST was awesome.

Five other things
1. The bug guy visited at work today and he found a live black widow spider on the outside of our building.

2. Have you been here? Don't you want to have peaceful, well-lit mornings like these?

3. We checked out a book from the Library about dinosaurs, and it's a super-simple little board book about "some dinosaurs are hungry. Some dinosaurs are sleepy. Some dinosaurs have long necks." and so on. And Bird listens patiently to the dinosaur observations, and when we get to "some dinosaurs have armored plates," she says in the sweetest little sleepy voice, "armored plates!"

4. I was really not kidding about the variety of snacks. I ate my lunch today at 11:00, and it is 3:40. Since lunch I have snacked extensively on the only things available: Life Savers and Swedish Fish Candy. I am both starving and nauseous due to the puddle of gooey, sugary shit rolling around in my stomach.

5. I had a conversation with my mother yesterday where I found her to be a little not herself, asking us to try a little harder to visit their house when we are already in Indiana visiting A's parents. She wasn't out of line to ask-- getting into the geography would be too long and involved-- and she wasn't being unreasonable, just a little out-of-character for her easy-going, "whatever works for you!" attitude. When my mom makes a request, you know she means it, because she rarely asks anything of us. And my heart chipped and broke a little more about distance and grandparents and Bird, and how there aren't enough days and weekends and phone calls and road trips, and there isn't enough Bird or enough time to go around. And about how we are so smitten by and immersed in our little budding life here in the South, but also so very, very attached to and rooted in the Midwest. Talk about being torn.