It's all about the money - nova

I watched her sort through it as she muttered, "bill, bill, mine, trash, bill, another god damn bill" and drop each one in its pile on the granite counter top of the island that ran through the middle of the kitchen. I knew she knew I was watching but that wasn't important.  What was important to her was what she was working up to and I knew it was not going to be pleasant.  Once I would have been ready for it, my adrenalin pumping, retorts forming like lightening bolts ready to be hurled, but now? I just didn't care.  It went nowhere and nothing changed. 

She swept the mail off the counter top, screamed "fuck!" and snapped her head around to glare at me. I almost laughed.  It reminded me of a scene from a movie I had seen a million years ago.  Damn, what was the name of it? Something with Linda somebody in..."   I was trying to remember her last name when Katie screamed, what! You think this funny? We're going to end up declaring bankruptcy at this rate!"

I studied her. She was still attractive as when we had gotten married nine years ago except it was marred a bit right now by her anger.  Once upon a time I could look forward to some decent sex after a blow out. Now?  Nada.  The distance would linger between us for days and another stone in the wall between us would be cemented into place. 

"I told you this was going to happen but you didn't want to listen."  I didn't raise my voice.  I just stated it.  She didn't like it. 

"We both agreed this was the right time to buy!"

It's all about the money -nova

I was laying there, laptop balanced on my chest, thinking about maybe looking at some porn. It was a tough choice, porn, economic, or war news?  All of which were bad news though they all shared the same root; money, and degradation of others by the few. Cheery stuff when you thought about it that way which I usually didn't.  I mean, why bother? It was all happening to other people and my life had enough going on right now -- none of it especially positive.

Like most of my life my decision was made for me by someone else. This time by the sound of the garage door opening. I sighed, looked at the cat, who looked back, blinked, and was gone. "Fucking cat" I thought, "I feed your sorry furry ass but who's your best friend forever?"

I heard the staccato sound of her heels in the hallway as she came in, heels stabbing the floor as she passed my office, turning into the kitchen where the sound took on a sharper note as they impacted the Italian tile floor, not "tile" mind you, always Italian tile. 

"Hello!"

A simple word but one that could carry a number of attitudes depending on how it was pronounced.  This was not one of the better pronunciations.  Someone was pissed.

I yelled, "Hey" back and got up to find out what today's problem was.

She didn't look at me as I paused in the entrance to the kitchen.  Her attention was focused on the mail she was sorting.

It's All About The Money

I was in my office, stretched out on the too short couch with my feet hanging over the end. Our cat was busy annoying me by chasing invisible mice around the room and up the walls.  I suppose it was his way of telling me I needed to feed him.  He was right, usually I had fed him by now, several hours of by now, but I really didn't feel like going downstairs, opening a can, realizing again that his litter box needed changing two days ago, and then walk back up the stairs to my too short couch.  The couch that was the perfect size according to the queen of decorating.  The couch I had thought was leather until I had mentioned the cat was tearing up the leather and she had looked at me like I was a fool, shook her head, and told me, "its vinyl. Not leather."  My response was a surprised, "but I thought..."   I cut it off because I was getting the look, the one that said, "you never have left the trailer park." I caught it, and decided not to say, "we paid that much for vinyl!"  Instead I mumbled an "oh" and let it go.  It just wasn't worth it anymore.

I still liked my too short vinyl couch anyways.  It was the only place I could get comfortable in the entire house.   Every other piece of furniture looked good but was unusable for sitting or stretching out in.  If I had grown up anywhere but a trailer park I would know that furniture is for looks, who made it, how much it cost, not for laying around in, and that was what a bed was for. You can only imagine what kind of reception my suggestion that we get a Lazy Boy recliner was met with.  It seems the only people who owned those also owned houses that were, in theory at least, mobile.  I was still determined to get one but I had lost every skirmish since and I refused to pay three thousand dollars for some Italian faux recliner that wasn't comfortable.

AA I and II are on Audible for your Listening Pleasure

I found out today that AA I and II have been released as audio files.  It was a little strange listening to the sample and hearing my words spoken out loud. 

They're on audible.com

American Apocalypse I AKA The Collapse Begins

American Apocalypse II AKA Wastelands

They are also longer -- as in hours long.  That surprised me for some reason.

Thanks,

nova