I must get off my butt and get out of the house and race to the bank to beat stupid checks that are laughing at my money misery. They know there is a nice fat paycheck at the end of the week, so they are greasing their little paper check legs so they can slip into my account before the money. Checks? Who writes checks anymore? Apparently, I do, and too often lately. The cashcard transactions show up immediately and there is no denying that they have cleared. I like that. I write checks, forgetting to make note of them since I NEVER write any and surely they will clear. Now they keep pouring in (two big suprises this week) and along with the car payment that I made online (late) that hasn't cleared the account yet, today is the day it all comes crashing down. Thank God yesterday was a bank holiday. That delayed it a bit. Mark has loaned me some money (okay, GIVEN, we're married), but I'm still going to stand on a corner on South Congress looking for one trick before I go to the bank to deposit. Okay, exaggeration. I have another bank account I never use (except to overdraw it unintentionally) so I'm going to go close it out and get that cash to go with his check and see if that covers things. It won't if there are any other slippery wiley checks hiding and waiting to see how much I deposit so they can inflate and be just enough to overdraw the account five dollars and make me pay fifty in fees. I'm still praying the Mexican shoe shop I wrote a check to last week is slow in their deposits. That will save me. I'd better not count on it. If they are like me they'll be racing to the bank to cash it.
Other than that, things are peachy. I really had a nice Veteran's Day riding in the parade with two Pearl Harbor survivors and a member of the "chosen frozen" in Korea. It was a very emotional morning. As emotional as parades are for me when I see the flag and the veterans going by, it was even more so for me to be on the float and see the veterans in their hats or uniforms alongside the route to the Capitol.
We had a nice lunch for vets, too, and I sat with two very nice Vietnam vets who were both reluctant to be "one of those old men" that live off their glory days. Just nice normal men with real jobs and lives that happen to have risked everything to go protect a country in need. I wish the quarter of a million that died (or was it even more?) had the opportunity to be here with us. One of these men told me that his war experience was nothing like the movies. He saw a beautiful country, enjoyed the camraderie of his fellow soldiers, and felt more alive than he has ever felt in his life. He didn't dwell on his "glory days" or relish the role of "old vet," but he wanted me to know it wasn't the hell portrayed by so many. Interesting.
I have been up for three hours and hardly scratched the surface of what I needed to do this morning. Why does the time go so fast at home and so slow at work?