A really boring entry about money

2002-05-01 - 1:50 a.m.

Apparently May 1st is International Workers' Day, first "celebrated" in 1886 as a part of a movement to institute an 8-hour work day.

It's now celebrated to honour/commemorate those who continue to fight and work for equality between "classes."

Judging by the fact that I'm still poor, the fight isn't going well.

I'm actually really poor. My boyfriend has begun his work term, which, because theologians get manna from Heaven, is unpaid, I am the happy breadwinner for two grown men and a cat.

I hope Manna tastes good with ketchup, because that's all we have in the fridge.

Actually, I'm in a much better mood now, so for those who were worried, yes, our sexlife is back on track as of 6:32pm on April 30th. My brother doesn't need to know that, as he he was likely getting stoned to celebrate his birth.

Back to being poor and having no food.

It seems that my boyfriend and I have vastly different ideas about what poverty is. I throw the word "poor" around quite a bit, but I don't feel impovershed. We have shelter, food, I have a job, and the boy pays for education. We have enough resources that we can even afford to support the parasite we call a cat. The cat is fat. We can afford to drink/go out once a week, we have cable and the internet, and a phone which we use for long distance calls to our families fairly often. Our rent cheque has never bounced, and we're likely only a month in arrears for our current bills.

Unfortunately, we mismanaged our funds last month, so we ended up going "grocery shopping" with a budget of $25.00. Of that, we were pretty certain that $8 had to go toward cat food. Our cat would eat us, elsewise. I am certain of this.

For me, it was a trip down memory lane. Just last year I was dealing with a budget of about $20 a week for food. I've gotten this sort of shopping down to an art form. I know a dozen different ways to make maccaroni and cheese (we say Kraft dinner, but I don't know anyone, other than my dad and step-mom, who can actually afford the name-brand stuff more than once in a while). I can make enough rice, pasta, chili, cassaroles to last until the next paycheque. I suppose this isn't an impressive skill, but I'm proud of it.

My boyfriend, however, has never lived at this level of poverty. His first "real" job was as a waiter at a hotel, where the pay was good and the tips were better. When I met him, he was working for minimum wage but could be relied upon to pull down a hundred bucks in tips each night.

So, while I'm critically assessing the shelves of the grocery store, kind of enjoying our temporary period of slumming it, he's freaking out, quietly panicking, hoping that he won't have to declare bankruptcy for a box of instant rice.

It seems that he's felt poor for the last year, while at the same time I am making more money than I ever have in my life.

That's all I have to say right now.

Wow. That was a -boring- entry. I hope you didn't read the whole thing. I'll be more creative later.

Cheers,

The Magus

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