The End of Indulgence

So they were issued today and distributed before ten, the long-awaited April bonus checks. Diane and Carrie made a quick trip to the bank but I’m not in much of a hurry to deposit mine. Not that I don’t want the money in my account and not at all that I don’t agree that’s the best place for it. I simply don’t want to let go of it yet. I want to tuck it into my wallet and enjoy the fact that it’s there, knowing as I do it’s likely to be the last in the category of, “Gosh, I Can’t Wait To Get That!” I’ll see this year.

Due to the economy, my potential is down slightly for the remainder of 2009. Due to the cancellation of two good-sized programs, I’d say it’s down somewhere around sea level, actually. But all is not gloom and doom. I checked my 401K today and there’s still a few bucks in it. My financial guy, the one who manages my investments (and to whom I owe many hugs for convincing me to divest my GE stock at $48, something I appreciated when it dropped to $12) hasn’t yet called to tell me everything’s gone down the tubes and I should give serious thought to getting some real use out of that Pet Carrier I bought for Basil years ago and used only once by seriously considering its possibilities as a retirement home. I don’t pay a mortgage or an HOA fee again for two months, mainly because I’ve become so enamored of online bill pay through my bank that I can’t tear myself away from the keyboard and stop clicking the “Pay Now” icon. It’s a free service. Free anything is semi-addictive under any circumstances.

So even with sub-par to nonexistent bonus potential, I’m doing OK. I’ll just miss those checks. They inspired such wonderful, unnecessary purchases, like the 5lb bags of 100% organic free range chicken jerky strips that Basil loved so much but didn’t really need and honestly couldn’t distinguish from a Beggin’ Strip. The $28 a bottle hair treatment rinse that had the same effect as the $1.29 Suave product but somehow made me believe my hair was so shiny it could not be looked at directly without protective eyewear, kind of like the sun. That last round of books from QPB I haven’t read yet. Indulgences, with no guilt. What the heck, I’d think, it’s bonus money. And I’ve already put most of it in the bank.

When I measure my basic expenses vs. my income I could very probably continue the indulgences anyway, but the magic is missing, the fun is gone, when I know I’m being frivolous with salary, with ‘regular money’. Regular money is supposed to go to the bank, where it will sit quietly and behave itself.

I’m just not a shopper by nature or an extravagant person with expensive tastes so I’m actually ideally suited to an economy so depressed not even a direct infusion of Prozac would prop it up. I become way too excited over a $5 pair of sweat pants from Rite Aid. Malls make me crabby. Bills bug me. I can live for a week on one four pack of chicken breasts.

But I’m still going to miss those checks. Basil’s back to plain MilkBones and the occasional dollop of Jif Peanut Butter. I may actually wait until I’m 60, at which time I should have finished reading the books I already own, before ordering anything more from QPB. My hair will only shine as brightly as discounted Avon products will allow.

I’ve calculated my next bonus check and concluded that Basil will receive one small box of store brand MilkBone knock-offs, the cat is out of luck completely and gets nothing, and I may purchase one half of an Oprah Magazine but only if the clerk at Rite Aid will allow me to tear it in half.

Tough times, but I’m convinced they won’t last forever.

I’m hanging onto that Pet Carrier, though.

Just in case.