Pennies from Heaven

My husband and I are trying to decide which classes to enroll our baby in, what classes to enroll Mommy in and if we can finally put a few sticks of furniture in our living room. Such a mundance conversation, I know. The funny part of it is that we really shouldn't be paying for any of it right now. But we're going to anyway--after all, it's the American Way. I wouldn't want us to be un-American.

You see, I'd like to be even more American and write the Great American Novel. Uh, correction--the New York Times Best Seller Great American Novel. No sweat, right? Before I can do that, though, I have to be a great American capitalist, feeding the coffers of those pillars of education called writer's workshops. Essentially, I will have to force myself to write in the wee hours at the cost of precious sleep, since that's the only time the baby sleeps and I don't. Then I will scramble to read the endless pages of my twelve classmates on the day of class, writing my comments in the margins on the way to said class. All this blissful torture for the mere pittance of $600 U.S.

Then the furniture will cost us a few thousand and Gymboree or some such will add a $300 cherry on top of our debt sundae.

So, off I go to convince my otherwise intelligent husband why this agenda is valid.

To be continued...