April 7, 2008 § 4 Comments
A bright, warm sun. A cloudless sky. A chill wind, but above freezing. It isn’t quite spring but it will be soon.
Meanwhile, I am waiting to hear back from the Ontario Ministry of Humiliation and Half-Measures about my summer loan application. The time between loans is always the worst—a steadily worsening spasm of website-checking and not-knowing as one’s bank account dwindles inexorably to nothing. It’s why I swore I’d never do this again, and why I routinely kick myself for breaking my vow.
I was taught to be good with money, which is to say that I was taught to live in fear of the prospect of suddenly not having any. Because of it, I budget carefully, at moments compulsively, as though the logic of quantity can be subverted by repetition. I can still hear my father’s drawl in my head—“You have to plan!”—which I did not take as advice but as a paternal decree. The Ministry, for its part, remains unmoved.
In the interim, life is small and tense. There is enough for the hydro bill and one more run of groceries; there isn’t enough for a haircut, a vet appointment, or an impromptu bus ticket to New York. I feel stuck, and this post is a weak attempt to become unstuck. Humour me, will you?