Facing the Fight

It's Monday. There's snow on the ground and its cold. A great day to stay warm inside and be lazy.

But, that ain't gonna happen.

Mr. Hippie was laid off again on Friday, so we are planning one of those fun sit-down all-day planning sessions that raise my blood pressure and test my ability to focus for long periods of time.
We are going to review our moving plans, (a young couple has signed a contract on our house), tweak our cabin floor plans, and go over finances. Oops. That's the part where I decide to go off and take a long bath or clean my closet.

Numbers make my head hurt.
Bank balances make it blow up.

Trying to make my husband understand that you can't buy groceries for $50 a week and that they don't give me that case of beer free on Fridays is like doing your hair in the middle of a tornado. It's useless. By his estimations, we should have a billion dollars saved and sitting pretty forever and ever.

Believe me, I don't buy designer purses or clothing, eat out with girlfriends, invest in new furniture every few years - and I've never had a manicure or pedicure in my life. I don't drink, smoke or gamble. So, honestly, I have nothing to feel guilty about.

Except the fact that I am not organized. I can't just spout out credit card balances or mortgage totals by heart. I don't have my monthly bills memorized. I'm not sure about percentage rates and interest and all that other mathematical jargon.

But like going to the dentist, this pain has to be faced or its just gonna get worse. Once we get past
the yelling, screaming and crying, our move will be bright and welcoming and a new challenge in our lives.

I'm looking forward to what's ahead, but scared, too. It's like a journey into the unknown. Good thing I'm going there holding hands with my husband. Because no matter how much I anger and exasperate him, I know he loves me.

Gotta go now. Think I'll grab another cup of coffee and relax a bit before my head blows up.