We currently have one car.
This is because, while sitting in the drive-through at Wendy's last week waiting to order his daily salad (not), someone tore out of a parking space with nary a glance. Chris' world was rocked, by a rude and unexpected jolt, to the tune of $742.16.
In lieu of the rental car while the car was being fixed, we decided to take the cash. Because what the hell do I do anyway during the day that I would need a car for? I generally don't even leave the house most days, especially since my exercise hiatus has been extended another week.
I mainly sit on the couch and play Doodle Jump on my Ipod Touch and marvel in the technology that allows me to actually check my e-mail and update my Facebook/Twitter statuses without even having to move. It is a beautiful thing. It really is.
We'll allow ourselves to be inconvenienced; it's not much of a sacrifice, really, so I hope it proves to be easy money.
Speaking of money, though, today was payday. For those of you who keep up with my lame-ass life you will recall that on our last payday I almost had a stroke.
I say that somewhat in jest, but I do have high blood pressure and I very well could have stroked out by the events of two weeks ago. Suntrust would surely have been held accountable and we would have become very rich because of their direct hand in causing this catastrophe.
But with our luck, I could have been paralyzed and Chris would have had to change my diapers. Albeit rich, our quality of life would suck.
Now that I think of it, though, I don't think Chris loves me enough to change my diapers. I would probably be fast-tracked into an el cheapo nursing home where they rinse and reuse catheters instead of buying new and I would live the rest of my days with my name written on all the tags of my clothing in permanent marker.
Today we wised up and decided that he would take the pay check directly to the branch vice-president instead of relying on a peon in the drive-through window. We aren't certain which peon caused our grief last time , but if I ever find out who it was, I vow I will kick her ass.
This "flagging" of our last paycheck resulted in a big, bad seven-day "HOLD" on our deposit. This predicament nearly screwed our credit, reputation and finances for the next several months.
I think we were spoiled by our local bank in Iowa. We would breeze through the drive-through every several weeks with a deposit. The familiar faces would smile at us brightly, and ask, "Do you need a receipt?" We would wave our hands and say "no, that's okay." Because we KNEW that the check would be handled competently; we had no reason to worry.
The kind teller would then, with a radiant smile on her face, send out several suckers for our children and a dog biscuit for our Cairn Terrier.
(Our Cairn Terrier, Sven, always looks abused and evokes pity in people. He gets treats a lot when we are out in public with him. I promise, we have never touched him on purpose...we just trip over him a lot. I don't know why his affect is that of an abused animal.)
So, I am sure it was with much bitterness that Chris marched into the Suntrust branch today in search of Someone With Authority. I bet he was really pissed that he actually had to get out of his car.
In general, we are annoyed when we have to "get out of the car" to run errands such as picking up prescriptions, making bank deposits and ordering lattes at Starbucks. Drive throughs have spoiled us; how did we EVER get along before them?
Even though he handed his hard-earned money over to someone with a title after her name I am not confident in this transaction at all.
"Honey," Chris said tentatively said when he called on his way from the bank. The tone was a little off and, knowing where he just came from, it produced a twinge of panic in me.
"Did you take the check to ______," I asked. I envisioned her, upon seeing Chris come through the door, running to hide in the nearest utility closet where he couldn't find her. The last time he visited, it didn't go well for her.
"I did, yes."
"Well, then, what's the problem?"
"She did this when she gave me the deposit slip."
He was home at this point, so he gave a little demonstration in which he tightly crossed his fingers ( as in "good luck") and raised them up to his ears, wiggling them hopefully. It was a gesture one would do to another when one was up to bat during a softball game, getting up to sing "Hotel California" at a karaoke bar or attempting a spiral perm for the first time.
"Shut up, you're kidding."
He assured me he was not.
This is a gesture one does not want to see when they hand over a paycheck to a financial institution. A confident "We'll take care of this! No worries!" would have been ideal. "I'll do my best to ensure this gets to the right place," would have been okay. But a good luck sign?
I think I will be praying extra hard tonight. If things don't go well, this very well could be the event that puts me over the edge.
I will be playing Doodle Jump and Yahtzee on my Ipod Touch for a great long while in the long-term care facility where Chris dumped my shriveled body. Hopefully the place won't be too cheap to have a wireless internet connection so I can update my Facebook and Twitter status when the nurses come and change my position in bed, because that will be the extent of my action.