Arrrgh

Thursday morning, and no money whatsoever; I had to call Mom bright and early, and beg her to spot me $200.00 'til Tuesday. Steve actually tried to persuade me to get a refund on my pre-paid haircut, up until I pointed out to him that that would net us the grand sum of maybe $40.00. He also doesn't want to ask his Dad for a loan, because it's embarrassing--like A) it isn't for me and B) his Dad doesn't know he hasn't been paid for the last three weeks; whatever, dude. Whatever.

One way or the other, we're obviously going to have to manage this just a tad better, in the weeks and months to come. But it can be done, no doubt. (And now that I think about it, the government still owes us respite services money, which I can only hope is on its way even as we speak. So--maybe we'll get a nice surprise.)

In other news, I made a cover for my poetry CD, and am seriously thinking of trying to sell copies at Polaris (July 10, 11 and 12), which is coming up far sooner than I'd anticipated. Its background is Maurice Sendak's illustration for the Brothers Grimm version of "Fitcher's Bird", my favorite Bluebeard variant, which contains the following wonderful refrain/exchange:

You Fitcher's feathered bird, where are you from?
From feathered Fitze Fitcher's house I come.
And Fitze Fitcher's bride, what does she do?
From roof to floor, she sweeps the house like new,
and through the attic window she is watching you.

Okay, well: At least I'm taken up both my pant-legs, at this point.