My New Catchphrase

My new catchphrase is, "I can't afford it." This started out as irritation about being nickel-and-dimed at work...insurance goes up and it comes out of our paycheck, we're moving offices and going to have to pay for parking or hike three blocks in the Kansas winter...that kind of thing.

But this Friday, shit just got real. I found out on my commute home that my husband just lost his job. So what did I do? Well, I'll leave out the part about texting a friend at 70 miles an hour and skip to when I made it home.

We crunched numbers. We figured out who owes us money and how to get it. We talked about severance and unemployment benefits. We talked about health insurance. We returned the expensive, awesome mattress we purchased for my step-daughter but had not picked up yet and picked out a model that cost $250 less. We considered if there were any other recent purchases we could return. (I haven't returned my new coat, yet...technically it is a Christmas gift from my parents who gave me the money to buy it. And it is awesome. And my old coat is OLD and very "Almost Famous" furry. And it was half-price, anyway...It's like I'm making money.)

Then it was time to read the saving money articles on the internet. I've been reading these for a long time and following their tips as the mood hits. I'm pretty good at being poor, if I have to be. I paid off outstanding credit card debt while on a graduate student stipend, after all. So even though I knew what would be in them, I was disappointed.

"Take your lunch to work," "Cancel premium cable channels," "Cook meals at home." Who are these people talking to? I already take my lunch to work and it's not because I love leftovers. Premium cable? How about no cable--and we haven't had it since 2005. A fancy dinner out for us involves hitting the drive-thru and sitting on the kitchen floor. (Why the floor? I don't know--because it's like a picnic?) I guess fast food carpet picnics are out of the question, now.

My next internet stop...the grocery store circulars. And boy, I hit them hard. Yesterday night my husband opened the cabinet and said, "Why do we have four jars of Peter Pan peanut butter? Don't you know I just lost my job?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Peter Pan (his favorite) was on sale for 98 cents. Do you know how much it regularly costs?" So, of course, he knew he lost that argument.

Anyway, I hope you can live vicariously (and I mean that, I don't want anyone else to lose their jobs...I already know too many people who have) though me as we wade through this era of the dwindling middle classes, many of whom, like us, can't afford it.