December 19, 2008

Livid, alone, in the dark

After another patted shoulder “don’t worry,” I literally bite my tongue. It’s the only way not to completely lose my good traditional training of not talking back to my elders. Or in this case, “raving at elder.”

Why, on the eve of a very important, very early, phone interview was I up, running outside barefoot over an hour before scheduled alarm? Hi, it’s still me here, still the girl who gets up only ten minutes before departure. That’d be because I woke to the sound of an unscheduled alarm. The car alarm.

I would have ignored it; I usually do as sleep is precious beyond words. Something stirred me to go see this time, though, to possibly do our neighbors the courtesy of silencing an errant alarm. What I saw, peeking out the blinds, however, was no errancy except that of a flurry of indistinguishable human activity. Startled, I raced outside barefoot to watch the family sedan driving away backwards. Towed.

Are there even words for the sheer fury that swamped me? I woke my dad hoping it was a mistake. Suspecting that it was not.

It wasn’t.

He hasn’t been able to keep up with the payments lately. What an innocent sounding statement until combined with the towed car.

I am positively furious and humiliated. Above all, betrayed. It wasn’t more than a month ago that I’d told him our communication was poor. I couldn’t trust their judgement and sensibility. He seemed surprised, he protested my characterization.

Well, surprise! I can’t.

This wasn’t a sudden, unexpected thing. (At least not for him.) This is what happens when you don’t pay, pay in time, and keep paying on time.

So what now? We’re down to my car. That’s it. It’s Friday morning, if I don’t throw cash at the situation, who knows how much, we’ll have to share my car for the weekend and I have a very full weekend. Heck, who knows, if I’ll have enough? Tow truck fees, plus whatever else. I don’t know. All I know is I’m losing more precious sleep because he can’t take care of business, can’t learn to tell me before something is about to become an exponentially larger pain in my ass so we can alleviate the situation. No, because “I can’t keep running to you.” No? But you think it’s right to wait until it’s a disaster before telling me that there are dark clouds in the sky?

Edit: Above written at 4 am.

Update: It turns out he’s over a thousand dollars behind. Deep breath.

It’s not that I can’t shake the money loose from somewhere. It’s that I have to because he won’t learn. That I have to tell my own dad that this is why I have trust issues, why I don’t think we have good communication, why I have to be anxious. That I told him months ago that my work situation was B.A.D. and last night that we’re all going to be laid off. That, in this lousy situation, he thinks it’s better to hide this situation and let it go into arrears!

“Why Mom is slowly losing her mind,” a part of my mind whispers disloyally, quietly, “this is why she’s losing her grip on reality. Living with him and letting him ‘handle it’ is, for her, to expect failure and disappointment. If it weren’t for me, would they be on the street in a matter of months? Weeks? How long would it be?”

It’s going to cost at least $1300 just to catch up on the payments. They’re waiting for a manager to review the file on Monday before they release information on how to get the car, according to him. That’s unacceptable but I’m stuck at work now and can’t follow up on my own.

I’m so mad I could spit.

And after this bailout, then what? Do I scrape up the cash to pay off *yet another* car since he obviously can’t afford this monthly payment? Call in my personal loans to free up cash and pay off all possible debts that I’m aware of? Create a blank slate for him while I try to support two households? If I don’t, he’s going to keep on trying to make two ends that are too short meet without telling me when he’s run into a rough patch, until we incur extra stupid fees. If I do, will he learn? Or will this just happen again?

Job hunting wasn’t challenging enough?

May 7, 2008

Well, hello Bag Lady Syndrome!

Holy cheezits. I’ve got Bag Lady Syndrome today, and I’ve got it bad. I’m thinking to myself: 15k is good for an emergency (aka: I quit!) fund. But what about all those other things that could happen, like car problems ? That’s almost as certain as death and taxes, especially in the Ducky household. Or something goes terribly wrong with the house? Or if our rent suddenly increases astronomically? How would I cope with money-draining chaos if I’m reducing every expense I can think of and maximizing my income now, and still having a rough go of it?

PaDucky’s out of a job again because the company he was working for went out of business. He’s having a really hard time finding another one because of age discrimination. Prospective employers are telling him that they’re looking for younger people, which is foolish and rude. I wasn’t expecting to rely on his income any time soon, but he’ll certainly have to have one if I’m to implement my plan to move out.

Instead of panicking or becoming anxious, or resigning myself to living here forevermore, I kicked into super-analytical mode:
I should keep the 15k as a cash cushion for job loss.
Then start another emergency fund for catastrophes such as the above.
And bulk up the car maintenance fund by, say, another couple thousand.
And have a supplemental fund for rent, just in case the rent goes up insanely. [This is a possibility, our rent hasn’t been increased in years.]
And … and … and … whooooaaa!!!

That right there? I just tried to mentally justify building up 100k worth of what-if money because I’m paranoid. Where I’d get that extra 85k, Lord only knows, but the point is, I’m falling into that mentality where no amount is ever enough because I’m fueled entirely by emotion. Namely, fear.

It’s subsiding now that I’ve written it down and can see how ridiculous it looks on “paper”, but now I understand how easy it is to become Chicken Little and run from imagined terrors. I always wondered how people I consider comparatively or absolutely wealthy could look at what they have and still be afraid that they’ll be broke, but I realize that the problem is the mentality of what they don’t have, not what they do have.

It’s not that any of the above couldn’t happen, but a million other things that I couldn’t ever foresee could happen, too. I can’t live my life under a rock making lists of the things that could go wrong and how much money I’d need for it to be ok again. Silly ducky.

 

October 26, 2007

The more I swear I’m not buying another car …

the more circumstances force me to wish I COULD.

We were already sharing two cars between three of us: Pa&Ma, me, while my brother was gallivanting off in his own car that he hasn’t paid for in the last 4 months. Then, my idiotic brother comes home with totally thrashed brakes and finds out that it’ll cost $600 to fix them. Never mind the fact that, according to our agreement, he no longer has the right to be making any auto-related demands, he wants Pa to call up our mechanic family friend on a Tuesday to make him fix the car.

Right. Because we are all here to serve his needs when and if he decides to exercise his privileges. As if our friend doesn’t have a job and a family and other responsibilities. Idiot. So now, we’ve got one car between the three of us because the sedan can’t be driven until the brakes are fixed, and my idiot brother is taking the truck for unknown periods of time, without considering the needs of the THREE people at home who only have one car between them.

This normally wouldn’t annoy me so very much. Weekends I just try to stay home and not need a car, or I take the train during the week, but this weekend, I need a car to go pick up BoyDucky, finally spend a little time together over breakfast and get a haircut. And Monday I need a car to go to my doctor’s appointment. But I can’t assume my own car will be available all because of one enormously entitled, poorly trained, selfish family member. Just one. That’s all it takes.

I know we’ll make do. We always find a way. It’s just aggravating that we always have to.

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