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So.
The good part is that my tax money finally came, enabling me to do stuff like set up a new savings account at ING, pay off the VISA balance, etc., as well as go off and buy stupid shit I sure as hell don't need, but want (and have wanted for some time now). The bad part is that, after having wholeheartedly thrown in with this idea, Steve had a minor/major meltdown over the fact that our spree-bill ended up coming to $300 even.
Lay aside the fact that I know--KNOW--we spend this much every single week on things from food to laundry to trips to buy light fixtures we still haven't fucking installed yet. Lay aside the fact that I refuse to feel guilty about buying Wiseguy Season One and Murder One Season One, even though I haven't really finished The Shield Season Three yet (let alone started on Season Four, sorry![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rustler). What ruffles me from the inside-out about this particular meltdown is how Steve's sudden fits of "morality" always somehow seem to express through him wanting to deny himself any sort of pleasure, however fleeting, so he can sit and cry over what a bad person he is for wanting both the big-ass and the 25th Anniversary edition collections of Battle of the Planets. Which he isn't; a bit frustrating, sometimes...to say the least...
If you feel bad about not paying the Church for our son's baptism, pay them. If you feel bad about buying stuff when we have lots of stuff already, do what I do: Cull like a son-of-a-bitch, then see whether that helps. It's good for extra pocket-money, if nothing else.
But if you want something and you have the means to buy it, do so. And enjoy it. We'll all be dead soon enough, at which point Cal can go through our crap at leisure--and if you seriously don't think he won't sell and/or give most of it away, you are fooling yourself real damn hard. He will if he's any son of mine, that's for sure.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but it's late. There were gains today, BTW: I got all my classes back, finally, and only one of my days is going to be a gruelling slog through Hell. I decided to send the homeless story to On Spec, just for giggles. I decided to send "Pen Umbra" to Best New Horror 18, for the same reason. I swore on my own grave I would write over the weekend, and by Christ, I will. I only took two pills, and then only because I needed them.
And Steve's asleep, and thank God will never read this. And I love him dearly. But I wish he loved himself enough to just buy the shit he wants, suck it back like the bad crack it is, and HAVE A GOOD TIME DOING IT without thinking he's letting me, Cal or God down somehow. Especially so since I know he's wrong about the first two, and suspect the third one doesn't give much of a hoot.
/end rant.
Modified to add: And now he's gone and gotten them very quietly, while I was shaving my legs in the bath, and he's obviously going to try and take them back even though he left the bag and the wrapping here at home. Holy guaca-fucking-mole.
The good part is that my tax money finally came, enabling me to do stuff like set up a new savings account at ING, pay off the VISA balance, etc., as well as go off and buy stupid shit I sure as hell don't need, but want (and have wanted for some time now). The bad part is that, after having wholeheartedly thrown in with this idea, Steve had a minor/major meltdown over the fact that our spree-bill ended up coming to $300 even.
Lay aside the fact that I know--KNOW--we spend this much every single week on things from food to laundry to trips to buy light fixtures we still haven't fucking installed yet. Lay aside the fact that I refuse to feel guilty about buying Wiseguy Season One and Murder One Season One, even though I haven't really finished The Shield Season Three yet (let alone started on Season Four, sorry
rustler). What ruffles me from the inside-out about this particular meltdown is how Steve's sudden fits of "morality" always somehow seem to express through him wanting to deny himself any sort of pleasure, however fleeting, so he can sit and cry over what a bad person he is for wanting both the big-ass and the 25th Anniversary edition collections of Battle of the Planets. Which he isn't; a bit frustrating, sometimes...to say the least...If you feel bad about not paying the Church for our son's baptism, pay them. If you feel bad about buying stuff when we have lots of stuff already, do what I do: Cull like a son-of-a-bitch, then see whether that helps. It's good for extra pocket-money, if nothing else.
But if you want something and you have the means to buy it, do so. And enjoy it. We'll all be dead soon enough, at which point Cal can go through our crap at leisure--and if you seriously don't think he won't sell and/or give most of it away, you are fooling yourself real damn hard. He will if he's any son of mine, that's for sure.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but it's late. There were gains today, BTW: I got all my classes back, finally, and only one of my days is going to be a gruelling slog through Hell. I decided to send the homeless story to On Spec, just for giggles. I decided to send "Pen Umbra" to Best New Horror 18, for the same reason. I swore on my own grave I would write over the weekend, and by Christ, I will. I only took two pills, and then only because I needed them.
And Steve's asleep, and thank God will never read this. And I love him dearly. But I wish he loved himself enough to just buy the shit he wants, suck it back like the bad crack it is, and HAVE A GOOD TIME DOING IT without thinking he's letting me, Cal or God down somehow. Especially so since I know he's wrong about the first two, and suspect the third one doesn't give much of a hoot.
/end rant.
Modified to add: And now he's gone and gotten them very quietly, while I was shaving my legs in the bath, and he's obviously going to try and take them back even though he left the bag and the wrapping here at home. Holy guaca-fucking-mole.
