Yeeaaagghhhhh!!!!!!

It's been a little over three months since the quasi layoff. A quarter, in fiscal terms. Looking back, I think the part I was most unprepared for was the weird emotional ride we've been on.
Calling it a roller coaster would be a cliche. But it's an apt one. The first month or so, we were on the screaming downside for what seemed like forever. Then we did a correction with a long, slow bout of hopefulness. Then another correction to the downside for days and days of sleeplessness.
Gradually, our downs and ups are getting shorter and shallower, and that's a good thing, I hope. Still, it seems like, just when I think I've got my fear and despair under control, just when I can go to yoga without worrying that I might cry quietly into my ears during the shavasana, some little thing comes along and throws me off.
The latest was this week. Generally, the garden book and piano teaching have kept me busy enough not to ruminate on the bad things. I was able to put enough money aside so our son could have a birthday present (a bike, used, but still good). So it's been a relatively happy week.
Tuesday, I opened the mail and found a pleasant surprise. Aetna had sent us a $112 check for "overpayment" on Mike's life insurance (he now must pay quarterly because of the loss of that benefit.)
Great, I thought. That will go toward the $209 it will cost to enroll my daughter in public school. Or the $160 to pay for car tags, neither of which is in our operating budget any more.
But no. When Mike checked, he found that Aetna had taken his last payment and applied it only to the remaining months in their quarter, which for some reason is different from ours. So we will have to send it right back, plus some more, at the end of this month.
This, for some reason, made me furious. I spent the rest of the day frothing about the injustice of probably having to pay extra for Aetna to process these two payments, when one would have sufficed. Not to mention the brief glimmer of hope, which was so unceremoniously snatched away.
But then today, I'm back up and normal. We may make it to pay day without dipping into savings for the first time, owing to lower utility bills. So...rage successfully repressed.
I could deal with this whole situation so much better if I knew for sure it was only temporary. I'm happy to work 80 hour weeks and forgo an occasional trip to the movies temporarily. I'd do it cheerfully, even.
The trouble is, I keep reading stories about unemployment where different people are profiled. And almost always, the person who still hasn't found another job after months and months is someone just our age. Damn it, I just don't know if I can make it for the rest of my life without a vacation or even an occasional restaurant meal.
I've developed a little mental exercise, and it's quite the reverse of what most positive-thinker gurus would advise. But it does seem to make me feel better. I just go ahead and imagine the very worst: Mike and I--considered too old to start anew--never find better employment. When the college loan forbearances end next March, we still can't pay and have to default. We get a bad credit report, but then we don't plan to borrow any money anyway.
My daughter graduates in four years. Can I hold on four more years? Yes, I think so. We go totally through our savings. But at least my daughter is out of the house and doesn't have to suffer with us. The house would be paid off in another four. Can I make it to then? Maybe. If I can just shut my eyes and hold on tight for eight more years, I'll only be 61. Still young enough to have a little fun, if I stay healthy. In eight years, surely, surely something good has to happen.
Oh well. Back to work now.
Here's a virtual ride on a Vegas coaster to get me back in the mood.

It's a Brand New Day

Hate. Love. Positive affirmations.
Listen to me rave on.
Today, though, it's down to business. It's time to take a hard look at our finances.
We've crawled through about a month on the new, "streamlined" regimen now and a few things have become apparent.
Let's start with optimism. We can make it. It won't be pretty, but we'll be able to provide the basics of food and shelter (clothing may be a different matter). And hey, all those guys giving motivational seminars have a bounce-back-from-doom narrative. Why shouldn't we? If we can make a success of it, maybe we'll be the ones going on talk shows. Maybe I'll start writing the book right now. Hell, yeah.

Let's recap. In March, my husband was told he would be cut back to two columns a week (from three), he would become a part-time hourly employee and pay would go down by 33 percent.
Okay, fine. He wasn't laid off. At least the part-time option gave us a little time to work things through.
We've had a pretty good run at things, really. Over 20 years of work and this is the first time anything like this has ever happened to either of us. But that's small comfort. In fact, all those years of uninterrupted work made it impossible to imagine anything except disaster for our family when the bad news hit.
Reality is what we needed. The first thing we did was guess at the new paycheck and go to work on the budget. I ran the new paycheck estimate, subtracted expenses and we ended up with--whoa!--$46 left over after groceries to buy gas and any other frills. That's $46 for a two-week pay period.
Clearly, adjustments were in order. Since the "bridge payment" (a kind of severance given when you go from full to part time) had tax withholding at a rate of something like 40 percent, Mike changed the deductions. Then we took $2,200 of that bridge payment and paid the last of our credit card bill.
I ran the numbers again. Better, but still not good enough.
Our second biggest expense right now (excluding the house) is the college loans. We had a savings for this that was doing well in the '90s, but our first kid went to college at the turn of the century, just as the tech bubble burst and state colleges began increasing tuition by double digits per year. So yeah, the college fund was completely wiped out, and we still have loans.
College loan payments amount to about $275 a month. When my sons graduated, they were able to get deferments until they started working.
But when we checked into deferments, here's what we found: They're only available if you're laid off. Working 30 hours or more? Then you get a "forbearance." With a forbearance, you still have to pay the interest for the time out (limit, one year) and if you opt not to pay it monthly, it becomes capitalized. Result: You end up paying more for the loan.
We applied for forbearance anyway, though, because there's no other way around it. Now the end-of-the-bills number is doable--but only if everything goes just right. There's no room for extras, like the $100 plus it will take to enroll my daughter in public school, the tags on our 1997 Ford van, or the $175 per quarter to extend Mike's life insurance, formerly a company perk.
We won't lose the house. That was my biggest fear. We have only eight years left on the 15-year mortgage. But I think if worse comes to worst, we could cash in the 401k and pay it off.

No doubt there are some Mike haters out there who chortle at this as some kind of imagined "comeuppance." Conservatives have from time to time speculated on Mike's pay with hilarious numbers usually pulled straight from...well, you know. These guys (in some cases sitting on their own comfortable cushions) are so brainwashed they believe if you're the least bit liberal you must live in a mansion house and have a trust fund.
So let me set things straight. Mike's mother was a nurse, divorced, who often worked nights to make sure he and his brother had a good start in life. If anyone was an "elite" it was me. My grandparents had a successful hog breeding operation in rural Iowa. It had to pay for me, my brother and my mother, whose disability did not allow her to raise us. Neither of us has rich relatives or a trust fund.

So to business! We still have work to do in the expense-cutting area. HBO is in our sights, for instance. But--and this is crucial--we'll have enough on hand not to be totally consumed by anxiety over every-day bill paying.

We will not shuffle off in obedient acceptance of lowered expectations and a dismal old age.
We are, from this point on, all about the money.