Aug 4, 2010

Open Letter to the Unreasonably Miserly Fuck Sitting Over There

Disclaimer:  I'm angry at this moment.  We just had/are having a huge fight.  About what...what else? Money!  Things, hopefully will be cleared by tomorrow morning.

So, you say you're tired of hanging out with people on weekends.

I apologize for making plans for you, two weekends in a row, with something spontaneous coming up, for this coming Saturday night.  You forgot about the 3 weekends in a row before that, where we were bored to tears, sitting around the house drinking all evening/going to the bar on Sunday because we had nothing better to do.

So, you say it's because you get nothing done.

What do you need to do?  Clean the house?  It's spotless (because we're having company! Company clean!)  Work on yard stuff?  At 10 pm on Saturday night?  If that's what moves you, go do it.  Go do whatever, because it's mostly my company anyway.  You just sit around and drink, and unwind, mostly.  In fact, if I didn't keep things moving with my friends, that's ALL we would do. Sit and drink.  At the bar.

So, you say it's because of money.

Ah.  Now we're getting to the heart of the matter.  Money issues, I understand.  How about this?  I stopped buying spiders, video games, music, and tarot cards, this August.  (You wouldn't believe how much I spend on that stuff...hundreds.  a month.  seriously...)  Let me take care of it.  I usually keep things on the cheap anyway, using stuff from the freezer, manager's specials, whatever.  I can do a barbecue for 10 people for less than $50.  I can afford it. I'm working.

So, now you're blasting me, incoherently, repeating the above things, over and over.

"I have THINGS I need to DO!" you say, "THINGS".  What else can I say besides "go do them?"  Ok, how about quit spending a few hundred dollars at the bar every week and go fucking do these THINGS.  How about quit buying shit offa ebay, you're scaring me with this toy car habit, when every single day, really pricy tiny antiques show up in the mail.  Or, how about packing your lunch again, I buy lots of groceries, and plan for lots of leftovers, so that you can have a nice lunch every day, and every day, you spend upwards of twenty dollars on gourmet subs and breakfasts.  Or...how about you just shut the fuck up about money, you paranoid fucker, and let me handle my affairs (barbecues included) and I won't hassle you about drinking in the bar with your fucking loser friends every weekend.  How about let me continue to shop, and clean, and have my friends over, which you're allowed to totally ignore, if you so chose?  How about stop assuming every plan I make is an assault on your soul.  How about instead of inviting people here, we go out for dinner every weekend, like we used to?  Remember those days? Going to Portuguese Manor and spending $150 on steak and booze?  Hell, it was easy, and there was little cleanup involved. We certainly don't do that anymore.  Or, how about we cancel all our plans, with ALL our friends, and sit at home every single weekend, drinking, both by ourselves, staring at the computer, or youguessedit...at the bar.  Better yet. I'll start going out by myself, doing my own thing, spending time with my friends, outside of this house, and you'll never see me.  I'll spend my own money, and you won't have to worry about a fucking thing.

I'm sick of drinking. I'm sick of the bar. I'm sick of being fake-broke, or trying to act like I am.  I'm sick of these nonsensical arguments.  I'm sick of this insane money paranoia.  We're not fighting anymore, at this moment, we haven't resolved anything, though.

My plans still stand for the weekend.  And no, they don't include the bar.

Now, I know I am blessed, and have a lot LOT less to complain about than other people, but this money thing has been bearing down slowly since early this year.  In fact, it happens every year, and every year we wind up doing fine. This year it's worse than usual, not the finances, but his attitude towards them.  Not too long ago, we got into a really brutal fight in front of Alden, while we were driving, about money. He was careless with a customer, and they skipped out on a very large bill.  Sheer carelessness, and he knew it.  He was so worked up, he was practically frothing at the mouth.  I asked if there's anything I can do to help him recover the money, like press charges, or help him keep better records. I asked with 100% earnestness, and he flipped his shit so bad, he was driving through a parking lot at about 30 mph, and then slammed on the break, throwing me into the windshield.  Not through, but I banged my face pretty well.  That was about the closest he's come to actually doing me harm. Over money.

He's angry enough to rage.  Not angry enough to do something about it, like save money, or move the house forward, to get it rented, or even like...stop fretting and really evaluate and budget.  This is what scares me. Like his father, which is a real hot-button in this house, any mention of Sr...but, like his father, he's getting more paranoid and insane about money every year.

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