Cash-Only Diet

When I sit down to plan our monthly calender, the first thing I do is pencil a little heart around every Payday Friday.  There are usually two in a month, sometimes three.  On Payday Eve, I always lie awake in my bed thinking about how I'm going to transfer some cash, with mi Amor's approval, of course,  and buy a new shirt at Anthropologie.  I'll go there at 10a.m., right when they open. I start thinking about how good it smells in there, like roses and lavender mixed with a bit of spiced vanilla.  Yum.

A little aside:  I have a friend who becomes so excited while she's clothes shopping that she has to use the restroom (that's gross and I shouldn't have shared).  But I understand how she feels because I too land in a state of euphoria while shopping--not for groceries.  You can lose yourself and get caught up in the moment.  Just don't lose yourself in your pants. Especially if the pants you're wearing aren't your own--Would you drop it already, filth mouth?

Back to Payday Eve: Instead of dreaming of a new shirt, I decide that I'm going to have my hair done. I'll want it to look like Sarah Jessica Parker's long curly, golden locks.  Then I remember that my hair is thin and short like an 80 year old man, and so I switch back to the shirt idea.

The first thing I do when I wake up on that glorious Payday morning is make a cash T-R-A-N-S-F-E-R into my personal checking account.  Never mind that we're out of milk and dog food, my new shirt has taken priority.  As mi Amor begins crunching down his Raisin Bran sans milk, he looks over my shoulder at what I'm punching into the computer screen.  

"No transfers, Katy," he says.

"We just got paid," I tell him.

"I'm going to the ATM to get cash out.  You need to live on the 300 dollars we've budgeted for the week," he says.

"Really?"

"Really."

I know he is right; he always is.   I hand him my debit card and two credit cards.  He tells me it isn't necessary.  I tell him it is.  So since Friday, it's now Sunday, I've been on a cash-only diet. And out of my 300 dollars, I have 25 left.  I've stocked up on milk, eggs, and other basics except we have NO MEAT.  I blew my meat budget on the 10 lbs. of bacon we used for our Easter breakfast--that's disgusting, I know.  Mi Amor is going to have to deal with eating beans and rice for the rest of the week even though he's the kind of man who thinks a meal isn't a meal without a big slab of meat. That 25 dollars is for my shirt; it's worth the sacrifice.