That can't be right, something's missing. Hillary reran the figures.

There were only two outstanding checks; one for the electric, and the other for three bags of rock salt and an ergonomic snow shovel, to replace the one ditz-blitz (June) had backed into.  Hillary looked over the bank statement.  Where were the bills?  She counted: electric, phone/internet, insurances ... no wait, those get paid in late january, so neither home nor auto counted as monthly.  Chet's card.  The only charge had been for Hillary's last dental visit.  She used to pay her own bills, with her own credit cards... another lifetime.  

Something had to be missing.  Club dues?  No wait, except for one - which was like $50 annually - Chet had opted for life memberships, and so not having to bother each year.  And one of the other club dues, was legitimately covered under business expenses.  Since there were no loans - except for a random medical or repair cost - there were no bills.

The balance of her Husband's checking account was correct, and it was fat - and growing toward obese.  How'd that work?  There were two of them, and only his income - her remaining severance pay was, maybe 5k. Didn't matter, the remaining funds were locked away, doing a seven year cd term.  

The dinner deliveries and MerrMaids - the cleaning service - she had covered.  Between the two above, the hair studio, PlanetNail, and alot of outfits, shoes, matching handbags, and a few getaway weekends for them both, her funds had barely made it from one payday to the next.  Looking back, sure had been loads of fun while it lasted.

While she had done most, if not all, her transactions over the net, her Husband chose the old fashioned way - folding money and paper checks - as much as possible.   He detested credit-card come-ons, seeing their so-called deals for what they were.  She wrote out one additional check, careful to record the transaction; their electric fryer had thrown its last hissyfit.  She paper clipped the filled order blank - which she had to make from scratch, since most catalog entities wanted customers to purchase on-line, with credit cards - addressed envelope and unsigned check.

"He who holds the purse strings..."  And boy howdy!  She reached into the back of the middle drawer and pulled out a hair brush, ran it through, then reset the sterling hair-clip.  She was overdue for both a cut and wave; just two more choices off the table.  But she still did have a choice; one that could not be wrested from her, not without her consent.  That choice was:  no giving over to pity-partying/resentment...oh bells no!

Wasn't like she was the only person having problems.

The clock on the monitor read 13:47.  It was time to get dinner started.  And maybe, just maybe, she'd have time to touch up her nails.  Man, she missed the convenience of visiting the studio.  And they had nicer shades than any garish thing you'd see in the drugstore.