…it makes ze vorld go round…

Thirty imaginary high-fives to the identifier of those lyrics.

The key to a successful marriage is this: don’t let me do the budget. I have a fundamental defeciency in my brains when it comes to money. Yes, I can make sacrifices. Because sacrifices means I don’t buy myself new clothes and I go to the library instead of buying new books and I don’t go out to eat very often. Sacrifices, in my brains, also means that I pay the water bill when I feel like it and what’s the deal with the faucet? That’s weird.

So when I do the budget, I sorta don’t do the budget. I pay the bills, do some imaginary figurin’ in my head, then assume we have enough money to do what I really want to do anyway, which is go to Seattle and put both girls in gymnastics and send beaucoup dollars to our creditors to pay off our debt. My budget is ruled by family life and the avoidance of hard facts.

Will’s budget is ruled by something called numbers. Which is why we had a budgetary meltdown recently. And why we’re the perfect couple. There would be no soccer, no gymnastics, no birthday parties, no cakes, no trips, no nuthin’ in his budget if he had his way. While my budget is all about sunshine and lollipops and magical fairies who rain money on the little ones while we roll in gold coins like Scrooge McDuck.

See? We’re perfect for each other. Now he does the budget and I do the woman-work: keeping house, raising babies, speaking when spoken to, the usual.

Kidding.

No really, that’s actually how it works in our house. For now. Staying home is a sacrifice y’all. Yeah, I get to play on the computer and sit at a pool and read Alice in Wonderland to the kids at the park, which are all awesome ways to spend my summer, but I also have to be quote realistic end quote about what we’re giving up. Which is why we won’t go to Texas this year. Or probably anywhere else for a while. And why I’ve turned over all budgetary things to a guy who is much more interested in keeping the utilities on than creating fantastic summer memories for his children. Hmmmph.

In conclusion, my life is pretty much an episode of I Love Lucy. The one where Lucy forgets to pay the bills and Ricky takes over the budget. Which is cool with me. I’d much rather go rehearse my audition for the big show than mess with the bills anyway.

PS Kristi is the author of this post. I used Will’s browser because mine is not working. Computers scare me.