I have an uncomfortable relationship with money. I am not as grateful as I should be that it has never been a significant problem. The flip side is my belief that it has never been a problem because I have been so tight with it. Don’t throw it around and you’ll have it, I dimly remember someone old telling me as a kid. I was the one in a million kid who listened far too well.
Mastercard this month was impressive: it adds up quickly with new home buys from the hardware store and Ikea. It makes me fret about dipping into savings. I am not quite grabbing every nickel, but I turn the heat off when I leave instead of trusting the timer. If I’m back an hour later, why pay to heat an empty house?
Copays pile up in my mind, and this week the benefit explanations came in the mail. It takes a few days to realize I haven’t paid much for drugs or the dentist–not even ten percent of what the bills say they’re paying. The dentist and drugs are almost free.
I have one up on Ikea in this country: I have health insurance.
Who knows what the medical establishment pays and gets paid, all the layers of obfuscation and public relations it and its evil the twin insurance industry have cemented in place. Seeing the numbers I am grateful for not having to pay them, guilty that others do. I should take those protesters donuts.