267 days…

Tired.

Boys were better in class today.  It’s their job to test me, but they’ve already done that twice this year when I’ve had their class for more than literacy sessions and I really could do with them just DOING the right thing.

 

Your Super just came through today.

I feel very blah about this.

You weren’t worth much dead.  These people obviously didn’t know you …. you were priceless and I’d gladly be poor to have you back.

I know I should be grateful – other widows are also struggling for money more than me.
Less luck than good planning though (I will punch the next person who tells me I am lucky) – we are cheap to keep and always have been.  I have an inability to spend money on myself and I don’t think you ever really appreciated how much cheaper I am to keep than almost every other woman I know.  I don’t DO jewelry.  I don’t do beauty spas and creams. I borrow books from the library. My clothes are inexpensive.  I never asked for a new car or  an exotic holiday nor did I expect these things. I would love new furniture etc, but have had to fight so hard for every new thing I gave up and learned to live with the hand me downs and dump rescues.

The financial planner dude was dumbfounded that our family lived on less than a pensioner couple.

Meh.

Just meh.

I want you back.  This is all wrong.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

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