Adam is going to kill me.
They’re going to turn the phone off. Where is the money in our checking account? Mortgage… groceries… $400 at Beverage Warehouse?!? $700 at… where? Oh right, that sample sale.
I can’t run this house on Adam’s salary. He doesn’t get that. He never listens. I’m the one who always has to find ways to cut.
We can’t afford that vodka anymore. The cheap stuff is fine.
I need a drink. 3:30. Dammit.
What’s on the VISA? Over the limit?!? How?
Oh, Christ, not again. How did this happen again?
