…enchanted plastic

I’m finally lounging alone, all by myself, in front of a roaring fire—an environmentally correct, natural gas fire, (not very warm, nor very roaring) and I’m munching popcorn with my feet up, wrapped in Gram’s afghan. I heave a deep sigh of relief at having bested another day, while I try not to choke on old maids.

My life is perfect except for a slight armpit prickling that interrupts my coziness. I reach up and delve beneath the double layer of shirts and deep in the sleeve next to my skin, I discover my daughter’s library card!

How did it get there? My last memory of it was when it performed the ordinary function, earlier that day at the library.

Although I’m surprised, I’m not amazed. It’s rather small to be so enchanted, but my daughter has been reading fantasy books, so it must be bewitched and I’m bewildered![1]

I have been aware of the magic of plastic cards for some time, but I’m surprised to find that library cards are included. Until now, I had thought that such transformations were only performed by credit cards.

It’s magic how credit cards work. They’re captivating, just flip them out and buy anything. You can get some pretty great things with a flip of the card and a signature.

To me,
The little one is impressed that we can pay with only a toss of a card. For him, credit is incredible! I too, am aghast at the statement at end of the month. It grows magically after I whip it out only once or twice. Poorer, T.

Reality Bite: Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. A. Weasley

[1] A song title I am unaware of, but the editor insists that credit is due.


…credit casual

I’m casual with credit cards. My financial manager (husband) prefers that I use other people’s money all month, and then he only has to pay one bill and spend one day in gastric disturbance. But I use them so much that I become cavalier.

Credit cards don’t like to be taken for granted. In a vain effort to make me more appreciative, the cards disappear in a myriad of different ways. Their favorite method is evaporation. A credit card can just disappear while traveling from one store to another. Calling after it, like the concerned parent after a wayward child, the store tragically confirms that they do not have it. I then spend the day canceling it. Days later, it’s wonderful to be forgiven and have it reappear in the store’s cash register and hear a clerk’s reassuring, “Don’t stress out! We have your card.”
But it’s too late; the stress is out! The husband has been gone on business, unable to charge until a new card is Discovered.[1]

The husband complains about my card’s perfidy, but if he used his card as often as I use mine, his card would take a break! I know, because his card has done it to me before!

Reality Bite: Tripping in Tahiti, I tell you!

[1] It’s all in the vainglorious name and don’t you forget it!


…credit connoisseur

I shouldn’t worry; as a financial whiz, the husband is a connoisseur of credit and has a plethora of magical cards, most of them with pretty pictures and some with funky holographic designs. Each card functions uniquely and at different levels of interest.[1]

Oh, the magic is not just in credit cards, there are debit cards that remove money automatically from checking. As someone who was once a bookkeeper in the distant past, I’m not even sure how that works. It’s magic!

To me,
Cards tire when they are overused and disappear or they go on strike. We try to use them and are refused. “Your card is declined,” is credit code for “Your card has reclined, on a beach chair in Bora, Bora. Stop using me so much and I’ll again grace you with my power when I return.” Watch and see, T.

When a card is gone I call diligently, every day for the balance, so that I’ll know if the card’s gone on vacation, charging on itself in Tahiti.

And suddenly, it’s back—after a week’s absence, without a note or even a postcard. Quite mysteriously, like the library card, it reappears in a pocket in my purse which I have searched three or four times.

Reality Bite: I am suitably chastened

[1] Don’t even risk an interest in interest!


…credit perception

Dear me,
While delving my inner depths, I’m unearthing all kinds of noxious gas. To release it might be healthy but the cracks and fissures are deep and one never knows what might split off and go flying. It’s not my fault. Just so you know. Whatever comes of this, it is truth, as I see it.

Still tormented T.

I’ve decided that rogue credit cards are also responsible for messing up your credit rating. If they have the ability to get out of your wallet, they must be able to get inside your credit bureau, and what a time they are having there!

On any vagarious whim, the credit card company dials the roulette wheel and calls your balance due and payable. They can increase your interest rate at random for no other reason than you hit the lottery and decided to pay off the running balance of another card. Go figure?

It seems that the credit card companies know more about me than my closest girlfriend and certainly more than I think is safe even for the husband to know. I'm just sure that this is related to the alien plan to invade the world, and Mexico’s plan to wreak our economy.

What I know for certain, is that it does go far to advance my insanity, if they only knew. Oops, now they do.

I’m going to pretend that credit card companies really are a service industry with my best interests at heart, and that ignorance is blissful and not necessarily a bad thing.

Reality Bite: The real worry starts when I begin to believe myself.



I’ve emerged into the light. Nearing the end of a book (writing or sometimes reading one) is like surfacing after a wicked and bitter winter to the pleasantness of spring.

I’m giddy with the potential of new life and I’m discovering a writing voice that echoes my capricious nature and follows every wisp and whimsy. The words just can’t keep up.

My new voice dodges life’s blows and rolls with the punches. The words are a little less bruised and banged up and are a lot less vindictive. I am discovering a new way to relate in a positive and uplifting manner.

To me:
The husband and the father disagree with me, but they do agree with each other that my writing voice echoes with confusion and mirrors my take on reality. T.

I don’t know what is coming next in life—or in this book—and that adds a sort of dodgy uncertainty that could be exciting. I’m playing a sports match and I duck and block the shots from nowhere that would K.O. my plans for each day. Heretofore these blows could have put me down for the count, but now, I’m up for it.

To me,
This book fulfills my narcissistic need to explain how beleaguered souls live in the real world. The husband thinks it may only serve the urge I have to rewind the video and relive the knock-out blow. But for whatever its purpose, the book achieves it.

My hope is that in the end, you will know as well as I do what it is that I’m doing. Hopeless, T.

Reality Bite: Duck at all warning whistles.

[1] Rife with fragrance, aromatic or malodorous.