you can't carry it with you if you want to survive...

go to your happy place Lisa... go.to.your.happy.place.
this is what keeps running through my head as of late.
i doubt i ever mentioned it before, but two days after my Mom died our cat died too. when we told the kids about the cat their little faces just dropped.  i swear that if they could have got away with saying: "you can't be serious! what the fuck?!" they would have.
around here, when it rains, it POURS.

the last week has been chock full of disappointment,
mostly on the money front - and after loosing a couple of huge sales we were really counting on, it would be too easy to let the incessant ringing of the phone {{go to hell bill collectors!!}} drive us into a deep, dark hole.
i won't lie to you folks; during my Mom's hospitalization and subsequent passing, we fell behind on our financial responsibilities.  i am sure this is not uncommon so i'm trying not to beat myself up about it too much.
one humorous/awful example is the credit card bill that Jesse went on-line to pay; wrote all the details of the payment on the bill, wrote it in the checkbook then balanced said checkbook, filed the statement and then... found out a month later that he never actually hit SEND on the payment.
poor bastard.  he was left with all the bills, the kids, the shop, the laundry, the meals, the cleaning and the school work while i was sitting at my Mothers bed side.  he is such a trooper. which is why when i say:
go to your happy place Lisa. this is where i go...

my birthday is later this month, and although i am beyond the age of looking forward to such an occasion, i thought i might buy myself a new pair of shoes.
i was debating between three pairs.  all three sold before i could get them.
this is why i don't buy myself things.  
go to your happy place Lisa. okay, here i go...

in an effort to curb the disconnect notices plaguing our mailbox Jesse has been diligently trying to sell every unnecessary possession we have.  he listed our 1977 VW bus on eBay and sold it but the dude can't pay/pickup the damn thing until the end of March.  awesome.  i'll tell that to the power company.
he also listed a 1971 VW Super Beetle, in which he received little action other than a 16 year old young man who wanted him to hold it until he sold the Samurai sword he had.  and again, i just kept telling myself:
go to your happy place Lisa.
fine, but just this once...

it's all good.
really.  at least i have a place to go.
and a damn fine place it is.
:)