Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Day 80

It’s the middle of the night and I have yet again been savaged by the middle-of-the-night monsters. No, not the kids. Not even my randy husband. It’s those stinkin’ mind monsters that magnify any slightly worrisome situation to gigantic proportion. Right this minute there is a lot less ho, ho, ho going on in my brain and quite a bit of oh no, oh no, oh no ….

What is on my mind at this lovely 4.00am hour? Christmas. Yesterday’s wonderful Christmas reflections have suddenly turned to head-in-hands despair. The true effects of Christmas have appeared! Not the weight gain from overeating, nor the hangovers from over-drinking, nor the exhaustion from over-socialising – but the miserable bank balance from over-spending.

Only at Christmas are both partners in this particular financial merger spending at the same time. I of course am spending more than he is because I am the official shopping delegate. I am usually the one with the tight budget but this year it went out the window with the stress of last minute shopping. Sure, I still spent less overall than last year, it’s just that I spent it all in the one pay period this time instead of spreading it out over four months. Bugger. This year I have swiped the card without checking the bank balance on line first. We looked at our bank balance last night and we had a whole $150 left to live on for the next 2 weeks. Shit. $150 isn’t going to last long. Let’s face it, we’re in the red ….

We have access to other money luckily. (It’s just money we shouldn’t be touching.) Plus we have a roof over our head everywhere we go this Christmas, food being supplied and petrol in the car. I know there are many people out there who don’t have that, and are feeling the pinch every day of the year while we sit in the warmth and comfort of a happy home. Or worse they are lying on the streets eating other people’s scraps. But thinking of others being worse off than me doesn’t change anything at this middle of the night hour. Christmas is bloody expensive! Could it have been Christmas that rendered them homeless?

As my stomach churns and my head pounds with the sheer weight of the middle-of-the-night monsters, I try to conjure up that happy ho, ho, ho again. We still have “family, reflection, gratitude, celebration and love” and a whole lot of stuff wrapped in pretty paper and ribbon under the tree to give to others. With a bit of luck we might get a few gifts in return that we can creatively turn into cash … did anyone buy me a pogo stick? Or perhaps a Pink CD? A voucher for a boob job? I’d imagine dancing on a pogo stick to Pink might bring in a few busking bucks … especially if performed naked …. But I’d need a breast lift first. I knew those street funk lessons would come in handy … perhaps my gyrating street funk dog could come too … hell, why not create a whole circus!! You know what, I actually got trapeze lessons for my 40th birthday. Hey, now we’re getting somewhere …

Hang on. How did financial despair turn to naked circus? Oh please rest my middle-of-the-night mind. This is crazy. I am crazy! Yes, that’s it – I am totally going bonkers … I am a raving lunatic … and worse … a financially desperate raving lunatic.

Ok, focus. Focus. FOCUS!!! No, cancel that. Don’t focus. Go back to sleep. Sleep. SLEEP! Does anyone have any valerian root? Or valium. I might have to settle for camomile … and a biscuit. I am seriously hungry. Having your head cave in can have that affect ...


PS. It's now 6.30. I finally went back to sleep and dreamed of bouncing through the streets of Sydney on my pogo stick which turned into my horse Pogo (may he rest in peace) and I had enormous hooters and a crowd of angry Santas were chasing me waving newspapers above their heads (which I think is what they used to sleep under). As I crossed the harbour bridge I was stopped by a crowd of clowns who were all dancing on the road to Pink’s “this used to be a funhouse ….” As you can imagine I have awoken feeling a little worse for wear.

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