It was nestled amongst the Christmas cards when Hubs brought in the mail. Didn’t think too much about it, thought something was on sale.
Wasn’t addressed to ‘our neighbor,’or worse yet, ‘occupant.’ I saw my name typed neatly, to me it had been sent.
Return address didn’t ring a bell, the envelope was business size. Had Hubs signed me up for a contest? My notice of the grand prize?
Then remembered a long phone call, that I myself had made. Inquiring about the loan on my Jeep, “how much to get this paid?”
“I’d like to be more specific,” she said, “but the total’s not written in stone. The sum I can give you is good for today, but then adds to the rest of your loan.”
“For every day that passes, the total I just stated, 32 cents must be added for interest, before your loan is negated.”
Jotting numbers on a notepad, as her words flew in my ear, since math is not my strong suit, and it’s hard for me to hear.
I started with the payoff, determined extra days, I’d have to UP that total to get the interest paid.
Decided on a dozen days, mail’s not the best ‘round here. I didn’t want another note which said, your loan is still not clear.
I’d mailed my final payment, had I sent the right amount? Found a note inside with a check attached, which proved I still can’t count.
The Jeep’s all mine and I’m thrilled with this check, hoping to be financially prudent. But I lack the math skills when doing our bills, I was such a piss poor student.
I am tickled pink with this bonus, how should I spend this dough? Just add it to our savings and with interest watch it grow?
It might be nice to surprise the Hubs, we don’t spend money that way. Though I searched high and low, finding no gifts to show for my shopping effort that day.
Was this being fiscally frugal, spending money whatever my whim? Would my shopping spree ever bother me, if I spent my windfall on him?
The practical side of my brain interfered with what this money could do. Books or vacations, gifts or donations, before my money was through.
With raging inflation gas prices have soared, so filling my tank would be shrewd. With my buck-sixty-seven, parked at pump 11, I bought a half gallon of crude.
When it finally hit what a sap I have been, I found it hysterically funny. What made me think this was some kind of a gift, it had always been my own money…