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“I can’t believe you just said that.”
My soon-to-be ex-husband had just told me it was my fault he had gotten payday loans. Nowhere on the planet had I ever encouraged him to do so. In fact, when I got wind that he may go near the place, I had repeated what Michael Turko said on the news--“It ain’t right.”
Michael had featured a young marine who had gotten caught up in the payday scheme. First you take out a loan for an emergency, thinking you’ll pay it back right away. Then when payday comes you realize you don’t have enough money to cover it, so you go to another payday place to take out another loan to cover it, and subsequently find that you can’t pay off the second loan either. So then you start a downward spiral of borrowing from a third guy to pay the second guy; and then borrowing again from the second guy to pay the first guy.
After years of borrowing from Pete to pay Paul, I had just discovered that Craig had paid about $5,000 to borrow $300, and he can’t figure out why I’m mad. Even our dog can do the math. About $5,000 is what we needed to fix up our mobile home so we don’t get evicted. And he actually cries when I tell him we’re headed for divorce court? How does he have the nerve?
Forget Brad Pitt. The sexiest man alive to me these days, is one who can balance his checkbook; or at least, keep himself from being fed to sharks.
“I only did it for you,” he said. “If you’re truck hadn’t broken down, I wouldn’t have gotten the loans.”
“And if your mother had used birth control, I wouldn’t have been stuck with you in the first place. When did I ever say it was a good idea to get a payday loan?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. He’s not good at responding to my questions when he’s not going to like the answer.
I went off to the kitchen to mix a cocktail of Zertec and Lorazepam, the only concoction these days that can ease my pain. After I had washed down the pills with a healthy dose of Diet Coke, my very own baby boy had the gall to stand in the doorway of the kitchen and say, “Nothing’s going to change.”
“Oh really? I think something is going to change. You’re address is what’s going to change.”
Maybe I should have married Turko--at least he knows how to get it right.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
My soon-to-be ex-husband had just told me it was my fault he had gotten payday loans. Nowhere on the planet had I ever encouraged him to do so. In fact, when I got wind that he may go near the place, I had repeated what Michael Turko said on the news--“It ain’t right.”
Michael had featured a young marine who had gotten caught up in the payday scheme. First you take out a loan for an emergency, thinking you’ll pay it back right away. Then when payday comes you realize you don’t have enough money to cover it, so you go to another payday place to take out another loan to cover it, and subsequently find that you can’t pay off the second loan either. So then you start a downward spiral of borrowing from a third guy to pay the second guy; and then borrowing again from the second guy to pay the first guy.
After years of borrowing from Pete to pay Paul, I had just discovered that Craig had paid about $5,000 to borrow $300, and he can’t figure out why I’m mad. Even our dog can do the math. About $5,000 is what we needed to fix up our mobile home so we don’t get evicted. And he actually cries when I tell him we’re headed for divorce court? How does he have the nerve?
Forget Brad Pitt. The sexiest man alive to me these days, is one who can balance his checkbook; or at least, keep himself from being fed to sharks.
“I only did it for you,” he said. “If you’re truck hadn’t broken down, I wouldn’t have gotten the loans.”
“And if your mother had used birth control, I wouldn’t have been stuck with you in the first place. When did I ever say it was a good idea to get a payday loan?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. He’s not good at responding to my questions when he’s not going to like the answer.
I went off to the kitchen to mix a cocktail of Zertec and Lorazepam, the only concoction these days that can ease my pain. After I had washed down the pills with a healthy dose of Diet Coke, my very own baby boy had the gall to stand in the doorway of the kitchen and say, “Nothing’s going to change.”
“Oh really? I think something is going to change. You’re address is what’s going to change.”
Maybe I should have married Turko--at least he knows how to get it right.