Regarding the money thing

It was suggested to me that I ask the boyfriend to float me a loan. It would help tremendously, just over the next couple of weeks and I think  he would do it, if he could.  But I can’t ask. I just can’t.


One thing I am incredibly stubborn about is my own financial situation. Money bothers me a lot and stresses me, too. Any financial mistakes I make are mine to make and I don’t want to involve other people in them so I generally keep my monetary woes low key and most people think it’s all fine. I hate birthdays and celebrations, though, because I just can’t afford expensive gifts but I can’t seem to explain that without being worried I will merely appear cheap. I detest money meanness; to me, if you are mean with money it is a marker for you having a mean spirit as well. So I overdo things, pay more than my share of lots of things, take it all to the opposite extreme.


And then I deal with my financial panic by refusing to get my mail (more bills, probably) for days and not opening up my bank account online to check balances, either. I call this fiscal approach Ostrich Responsibility.


In other news, I ran across a recipe for home made wet wipes and it works a treat. This makes me inordinantly happy so I’ll share the happiness.

Wait until you have finished a container of shop bought wipes.

Buy a roll of thick, strong paper towel.

Unroll a lavish amount onto the handle of a wooden spoon, until the amount rolled is just smaller than the diameter of your container.

Ease the spoon out and cut your newly created paper roll in half, giving you two, shorter, cylinders.

In the empty container mix 1 cup of  warm water, 1 teaspoon of baby oil and half a teaspoon of baby wash.

Pull the inner most end of the paper tube up through its own middle and poke it through your container lid hole.

Place the rest of the roll in the container, snap the cover back on, thumb over the opening, and shake vigourously until no more sploshing sounds will come out.

Voila! Cheap as chips and makes your hands/face/whatever feel (and smell) soft as a baby’s bum.


You’re welcome.


About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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