Payday!

Oh yay! Payday!

On the Bill Maher show a few weeks ago, all the rich folk living in DC were commenting how this didn't feel like a Depression, did it? Hmm? and I wanted to leap through the screen and bat all of them over the head, because maybe it doesn't feel like a Depression if you're a rich tool living in DC, rich tool, but come live as a middle class or working class yoick here in AR, tool, or some worse off place in the country (Oddly, I'm hearing there are worse off places that Arkansas right now! That's so bizarre! That people are poorer than us?) and get back to me.

For the past week we've been down to the quarters and dollars in our change jar (you know, the jar on that shelf above the dryer? Where you dump all your loose change you find lying about in the washing machine or around the house in general?); then, on the 25th, we got a check from the insurance company for just under two hundred dollars, money back on a bill we had paid at the beginning of the month -- oh joy! -- and I ran it to the bank and put it in -- and we're watching like hawks for it it clear -- and it doesn't and doesn't and doesn't -- so finally I went in on the 29th, because we're eating oatmeal for dinner at this point, and the woman tells me it takes five business days, yap yap yap.

I hate banks. Hate hate hate.

But she gave me a hundred cash against when it cleared, which I thought was decent of her.

And now we've been paid, and can buy food again, and pay bills.

My student who teaches the kid art was by yesterday -- another lower middle class kid -- expressed joy when I paid him. He'd been driving on fumes, and getting really nervous.

No, no depression out here.