Home economics.

Yesterday sucked. I got up, went to get the mail, and discovered another notice to leave the premises. Apparently, Matt's rent check bounced again, and unless we could come up with $850 by Wednesday (two days before Matt gets paid), we'd be up shit creek. Now, honestly, it takes a lot to get me really angry at my husband, but I don't mind saying that this time, I was fucking livid. Hadn't we started credit counseling, leaving us with (theoretically) three or four hundred in wiggle-room we didn't have before? Hadn't I asked him, over and over, "Can we afford this?" every time we'd gone out or bought anything beyond the bare essentials? Hadn't we already had this discussion? I haven't been checking the account balance, because I was trusting that Matt was keeping a better eye on it. I guess I should have been.

"I really thought I had enough!" he said.

"You always think you have enough!" I screamed into the phone. "I have to know that I can trust you!"

I knew that would sting. It hurt for me to say it. I had become one of "those wives" who calls her husband at work to yell at him, something I never wanted to do. But something had to give. I was shocked and angry and terrified, and so tired. I told him that we should think about getting out and moving in with his parents for a while until we can truly get on our feet, because I could not handle the constant stress of wondering whether we're going to get kicked out of our apartment every month.

Our current rental company could technically terminate our lease at any time, now, since our 12-month lease is up and we're month-to-month. It doesn't help that our rental agent has had it in for us ever since the bedbug incident. (For the record, I know I could have pushed to have the rental company pay for the extermination, because Ohio law would have been on my side.) This jackwagon actually accused Matt of bouncing the check on purpose. I could have throttled him, had I known what he'd said. Yet, we are clearly in the wrong. At this point, seven of our twelve rental payments have been late, and despite the fact that we have paid all the late fees, that is not a good track record. In fact, it kept us from getting into the apartment complex we wanted. We would have been moving out this weekend if it weren't for that. It took them a month to deny us, after they actually gave us a move-in date. So that's a month we could have had to be looking for another place.

After I calmed down a bit, I talked to Matt again. I told him that what we needed to do was to sit down every single time he gets paid and make a workable budget for that pay period, not a theoretical pay period, and we need to account for every last cent. I accepted my own responsibility for letting bank fees in my account pile up, which accounted for $150 this past month (who knew it would cost $6 just to check my balance on a "foreign" ATM? But I digress.) Chances are, that $150 would have made the difference, but my point remained. When I ask, "Can we afford this?" I need Matt to be honest with me and himself. He needs to tell me "no." If I ask for money, and there is none, he needs to tell me so. If we can't have a date night, then we can't. If I can't buy cigarettes, then I can't. I almost feel as if he thinks I wouldn't believe him, or would blame him, or believe that he's being cruel if he says "no." I told him that I would much rather go without a new shirt, or a cup of coffee, or a pack of cigarettes, than risk losing our home!

The timing certainly doesn't help. It's incredibly frustrating to know that Matt will be starting his new position at a higher pay grade in just two weeks. It's also frustrating that I still have not been paid for the work I did at the haunted house, and it looks like I'm not going to because the owner claims I was "never on the pay sheet." I could have taken care of the bank fees, myself. Actually, there probably wouldn't have been any, because, you know, I'd have had money in my account.

We are incredibly blessed to have Matt's grandparents, whom, last night, drove to meet us in Mansfield to give us cash to cover the rent and late fee to buy us some more time. Regardless, we clearly need to get out as soon as inhumanly possible, preferably last week. Today I'm calling some more places. I don't want to move in with Matt's parents if we don't have to, but I also don't want to stay where we are for another month, at least, certainly not past the first of the year. I feel like the universe is forcibly trying to extract us from this situation, and I'm glad of it.

Today, I am done being angry a Matt. I said my piece, and it's done, and all we can do to move forward is admit our mistakes and work together to make sure this pattern does not repeat at the next place we rent. I need to be more involved, clearly, checking Matt's account balance daily, if need be. And Matt needs to stop writing checks. Who uses checks anymore? Cash, debit card, even a money order, they're predictable, but checks are like this nebulous area of "who knows when it's actually going to clear?" and it all depends on when they deposit it.

And maybe we need to make even more sacrifices. We've given up cable. We can't shut off the Internet because Matt needs it for work, and I need it for my sanity. At this point, I would be willing to give up my iPhone, even though Matt insists it wouldn't save us that much money. I'm willing to stop smoking in favor of an electronic hookah, which would cost about $40 initially but would end up being much cheaper in the long-run. But really, what I'm willing to do, even if I gave up every red cent Matt gives me, is only a drop in the bucket in terms of household expense. Yeah, we like good food, but maybe we need to shop at Aldi instead of Lucky's. Maybe we need to take a hard look at how much traveling we do on the weekends. Maybe we need to limit eating out to once a month. Maybe we need to take one of those remedial classes in personal finance they offer to people on public assistance. I am wracking my brains trying to figure out what will help.

What I find frustrating is that Matt works his ass off and he makes enough money that we should not have to live like I did when I was on food stamps. I feel like every time we make changes to save money, we hemorrhage cash from some other source. I feel like nothing I can do will really make an impact until I can have a job again, and I'm still not quite in a position to be able to do that, especially since we again aren't sure where we'll be living in a few months. I have accepted, now, that we will not be able to live the way we want to unless I start generating an income, so I'm already looking at re-writing my resume, and I'm looking into what few resources I'm not "too rich" to qualify for. It's coming down to "beggars can't be choosers," and my pain be damned, I've got to find work even if it's just retail.

Immediately after my argument with Matt, I called my therapist to schedule an emergency couples session for today. We aren't arguing anymore. It's not about that. It's about looking at what we can do as a couple in terms of communication to prevent this kind of stress from driving us apart. Most marriages that fail, fail because of financial issues. I refuse to become a statistic. Unfortunately, love isn't all you need.