I haven’t run out of money in years so I nearly forgot what it felt like. Failure, Procedure. Ask for cash, deposit early, plan recovery day appropriately (leave house earlier, gas up). Looks like I was about to overdraft by four bucks. I can either wallow about, dwelling on how much that says about my personal freedom, feeling like a complete waste of carbon-based particles, or suck it up, fix it and remind myself of what happens when you cut up every credit card and take on a drastic financial overhaul. I’m still better than I was when I was reaching for those cards.
I can hear my pug puppy, stuck in the bath tub. Claws against linoleum. She jumps in there for water every time her dish is empty and then can’t get back out without slipping and hurting herself. You’d think she’d learn, but perhaps she is blinded by her thirst. And maybe "blinded" is the wrong way to look at it but $%^#& how many #@36 bowls of water do you really need to start the day?!?!
Buckets. Truckloads. An Ocean. Is Duchess connected to the very nucleus of desire? By the way she barks at a plastic bag blown against the iron fence, Magic 8 Ball says: Not likely.
The spoiled brat inside of me wants to take some of this money and get a really big coffee with espresso shots. The badass would drink it without sugar or cream and there is an entire array of vitamins in my stomach that would dance and sing to the added caffeine. Meth lab mentality. I can brew that at home.
Scratch, scratch, whimper.
I’d better get Dutbutt out of there.