Can I Split That Across Two Cards?! | How Much Did I Spend Last Week? Feb 5-11, 2024
(Yes, I know this is now the week BEFORE last!)
This was, I think, the week I finally accepted something: I’m a grown-up. And the thing that made me accept that was not the house I own with the husband that I have in which we house the children that we made (more him than me, but still). It wasn’t the work that I’ve done now for over a decade or the taxes I filed way ahead of the deadline or the fact that I can say I have a lawyer – “my lawyer” – despite the fact that I’m almost positive he is screening my calls.
No. It was the fact that, when I suddenly found myself faced with an absolutely outlandish bill I wasn’t expecting, I simply… cobbled the money together and paid it. (For full clarity, by “cobbled the money together”, I mean, “established which credit cards weren’t entirely maxed out and combined them, Captain Planet style, until the payment was made”. )
February 2024: the month I turned 39 and finally became an adult.
Monday
I wake up early because the baby has woken up early – at 6.20am, to be precise – screaming his head off for reasons best known to himself. If you’re new here, the baby is 2 and has, in the last three months, finally started to sleep through the night, and he usually wakes up quite happily, so to wake to him screaming is a bit of a shock.
It means that, instead of taking my time and dressing myself in a calm and orderly fashion, I’ve to scramble to get my reliable uniform (leggings and a baggy jumper) on – except today I actually have somewhere to be, which makes it all the more stressful.
Anyway, I get dressed and grab Atlas from bed, change and dress him and then drop him over to Robin’s where he’ll have his breakfast. Then I leg it back home, where the true adventure begins.
Mel and Vinny have vet appointments this morning to get their annual boosters, and not only is getting Mel in the cat carrier an ordeal in and of itself, but we suspect Vinny has a UTI so Brandin suggested, casually, that I “get a urine sample to bring in”.
Now: this is (sadly) not my first wee-deo, as I have, in the past, had to bring urine samples for Coileán to her vet in Fairview. But I used to do that by taking a little syringe with me and, as we walked to the vet, I would wait for her to do her first large wee and then suck some of it up into the syringe.
As I’m driving Vinny to the vet across town, this is not an option, so when I let him out back to do his morning ablutions, I follow him with a small Tupperware container, wondering how, exactly, I got to this point in life.
Somehow Vinny, the world’s dumbest dog, didn’t notice that I followed him outside – aren’t dogs supposed to have excellent hearing, or something? – and almost had a heart attack when I stealthily reach my hand beneath his undercarriage to collect my treasure, resulting in him immediately ceasing his peeing activity, and trotting off to another great location.
So basically imagine a Mr Bean-style caper around the garden, before 9am, to gather a container of my dog’s piss. Not my finest hour.
Pee in hand – and probably on hand, I do a very thorough scrubbing, singing through Happy Birthday three times before I’m satisfied that I’m clean – I then start trying to get Mel into the carrier. I’ve sprinkled the inside with treats, which have become very valuable to him lately, as he’s on a diet, but there is no treat delicious enough to entice this cat into that box.
Cue more comedy running, this time around the couch (three times) as I try to grab Mel and stuff him into a probably-too-small cat carrier, getting some decent abrasions in the process.
Each time I get him near the door, he spreads out all four feet until he looks, honestly, like a furry starfish, and I’m almost about to give up and call Brandin home from work to do it when I manage to grab him by the scruff of the neck while holding his belly and somehow all four paws immediately flop down and I stuff him in, practically slamming the door shut.
Anyway, then we go off to the vet. Both animals whine and moan for the duration of the drive (it takes 30 minutes, but after minute 12 I had to put in my Airpods) but behave admirably when we finally get into the exam room.
We do vaccinations, Vinny’s urine is tested (he does have a UTI, does this make me a vet?!), blood drawn to test for heartworm, his heartworm booster, flea and tick treatments… and, when it comes time to leave, I ask the vet tech to help me get Mel back into his carrier. And of course – of course – he just… trots right in, making me look incredibly dramatic. And incompetent.
What is incredibly dramatic is the gasp I emit when I get out to reception and am told, “that’ll be eight-sixty-one-forty-two.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. “Eight hundred and sixty-one?”
“Mmm-hmm!” she replies, brightly. “Would you like to pay with debit or credit?”
I stand, stock still, partially in shock, partially in a state of panic, as I try to figure out which credit card(s) even have that much money left on them.
“Can I split it over two cards?” I ask, feeling embarrassed.
“Of course!” she says – again, far too chipper, considering. Just then, Vinny does a long, dark, stinky wee on the floor. A fitting end to our visit. ($861.42)
I’m realising, lately, that my work-from-home routine, along with the fact that I spend so much time on my own, means that, when I do have to go out, do things and see people, I sometimes find myself exhausted afterwards.
That’s how I feel after my financial ordeal: exhausted. I do a little writing when I get home, then Bea comes over to record the podcast. When she leaves, I make myself a cup of tea and sit on the couch – read, fall asleep on the couch – until Brandin and the boys get home.
Brandin makes a pasta bake for dinner. I eat a little, but feel really zapped after today, so when it’s time for Atlas to take a bath, I take one with him and get into my PJs. Brandin and I watch some TV once the boys are gone to bed, but we’re in bed ourselves by 10pm.
Daily total: $861.42
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