Anal Retentive--who, ME?

When you've determined to run the destiny of your financial life by making Abraham Lincoln scream in pain*, you become a bit, shall we say, ANAL, about money, long after you've decided that you can ease up a bit**.

Which brings me to tonight, the night I've designated as BUDGET NIGHT. Actually, this piece de resistance started well into the afternoon, 2ish, to be more exact, and has continued to about 11pm. And, I'm not done.

But, in nine hours, I've discovered at least one thing: I've lost more than a few receipts from this past month. And it is making me crazy.

Over the years, you must know, we've been determined to track every penny that goes through this house. I mean that literally. Every penny. We save each and every receipt, know when "kids get in free" from Harlingen to Amarillo, and have moved our insurance deductibles so high that even State Farm raises an eyebrow at us. Yet, all this tracking/raising/saving has made us happy.

Yes, folks, a bit of a clue to our shared insanity: we are HAPPY when we know where our money goes, even if it takes queeny a thousand years to figure out.***

So, tonight, I'm running through our credit card bill. Keep this concept in your working memory: we run EVERYTHING through this credit card. I'm looking at multiple entries for $1.08****. I've been known to charge a Slurpee to this card. Basically, if you want a snapshot of our life, check out our monthly statement and you'll see the facts: we make some really moronic decisions. And LOTS of them.

I count no less than seven McDonald's entries. Twelve stops at Exxon for coffee.***** I'll even embarrass myself with the total number of fast food entries: Twenty-three. In 31 days!!******

So, with all these entries, I am in desperate need of receipts, lest they go unaccounted for and I have a heart attack, bad cholesterol withstanding, because I can't find them.

You see, for each entry, I have a compulsive need to match the statement with the receipt. In case you really think I'm looney-tunes, consider this: last month, I had my "Summer pedicure". The bill was $19. I tipped the fine woman $3.80.******* When the bill appeared on the statement? $49.80. Wow. A $30.80 tip! Was I so high on nail polish fumes that I forgot my pedicure came with champagne and chocolates?

So, you see where my cheap meets my anal. They work together nicely. And, we're all happy.

But, tomorrow, I must admit, I'll be at Exxon for their divine 24 ounces of steaming coffee goodness because, without it, I won't be worth a flip. And, darn it, next month I'll resolve again to cut back on the coffee after I see "Exxon--$1.08" at least a dozen times.

But, hey, at least I'll have a receipt. And it won't say, "Starbucks--$4.33"




*Work with me people. Think. Pinching pennies. Get it?

**Abraham only whimpers now when I pick him up off the parking lot of Walmart. Did you doubt I did THAT?

***Of course, the king often "pays" for these long nights by getting a little royal backlash, in the form of yelling, in the days after. A royal pity, if I do say so myself.

****Our Redbox habit. Maybe OBSESSION would be a better word.

*****Did I mention I decided to give up my daily habit of buying coffee? I'm not winning the battle. But, true to form, it's CHEAP coffee!

******When I finally make it to the doctor after the kids are back at school, I fully expect to hear "Good gracious, nurse. Her cholesterol is 563. Rush her to the ER. Stat."

*******Yes, a 20% tip. I said I was CHEAP, not a cheapskate.