Saturday, February 17, 2018

Magic Tragic

Where to begin.  It's always so hard to jump in.  I do my usual 'ghost writing' in the middle of the night but when there's actually a lull in life and I can put my fingers to the keyboard and write, I get all tongue tied.  Or finger tied.  Anyway.

We are living in a constant state of mess and stress.  And I'm sure the 'boarders' feel the same.

Last night, they didn't want to eat with us - well, H. did.  She didn't.  Said she wasn't ready to eat.  So we ate at the table.  Then he went upstairs.  And the often rescheduled 'budget' talk that has been supposed to happen for weeks didn't happen.

I sent a text to H. in which I let him know that these delay tactics were super frustrating.  They finally came down.  And guess what?  They have no documentation.  The 'notebook' they've been referring to wherein they've been (supposedly) keeping track of their expenses?  Doesn't exist.  There's a notebook but they haven't been tracking anything remotely resembling all the outflow.

As the 'meeting' progressed, their emotions came to the surface and both ended up in tears.  H. said his check on Friday was 'around $1,000'.  But when I press him - and implore him to get the pay stub (which he never did), it turns out it was only $800.  I ask 'why are you (already) misrepresenting what you're bringing home, H.?  'cuz we just used $1,000 twice a month as your 'take home' and it turns out, it's not $1,000 - it's $800.  So the 'net amount' you have left after paying your bills?  Is basically non-existent.  Because $800 IS NOT $1,000 and wishing will never make that so.'

Segue way -

R. is tearing up.  I see him move over closer to her and put his hand on her leg, giving her a pat.  Leans in to her and leans his head against hers.  Comforting her.  I feel so proud of him - how he loves - how he cares for her and wants her to be OK more than anything.  How he knows she's been through a lot - with her divorce, her kids, her asshole of an ex, her asshole of a father.  He's so loving towards her - so caring of her.  It's so sweet and I'm so proud of him.

It would be magical if it weren't feeling so tragic.

He says he will get another job and she's driving for Lyft more and they know they can do it.  And the accountant in me has to point out the obvious:  I have no idea how they ever thought they could handle $1500 rent again.  Heck, we've lowered our 'expense sharing' monthly amount to one third of that and they can't afford it - at least not yet.  'Getting caught up' is a theme even though what they list as monthly outflow are not any credit cards, etc. -

They spoiled themselves living on one time money and a lot of what they bought is in our garage (or our living room or every single bedroom upstairs but the two we occupy) - and now they have nothing to show for it but memories and a lot of stuff.

On a good note, I remind them that H.'s pay is covering their monthly expenses - including the expense sharing, storage unit, Mariner payment, insurance, cell phone, etc. - and with R. driving for Lyft most nights, fingers crossed they will be OK.

Anyway.  That's where we're at.  I try hard to be encouraging while simultaneously feeling constantly sick to my stomach about all of it.  I flash angry in a heartbeat and then have to throttle back - because they're so earnest in their 'trying' .  Or mostly.  H. is determined to 'get another job.  I just want to work.  I'm ready to work.  I can do this.  I want to do this'.  The 'this' is supporting her.

I think the tears came when they realized (as did we) that this isn't a 'couple of months' we're talking about.  This is a long term 'solution' to a very big problem.  My only comfort at this point is knowing that in four years, we are buying a house in another state and in five years, we are moving to that state.  This time five years from now, I'll be within six weeks of my last day of work FOREVER - and when that is officially 'here', they won't be moving with us -

And I don't think it will be years.  Many months, for sure.  But hopefully not that many years.

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