There are different stages of broke. There’s “can’t afford to go to the movies” broke, there’s “can’t afford to eat out” broke, “riding the bike since I can’t afford petrol for the car” broke, “busting the piggy bank” broke, and occasionally I hit “I own Weet-bix, teabags and a can of tomato soup” broke. This kind of thing normally reaches the more drastic stages as the cycle approaches payday, and the state of things becomes more dire when I don’t see a bill sneaking up on me. Thankfully I’ve never hit “I can’t pay the rent, I live in the Sunday paper and wrestle rodents for your food scraps” broke, and hopefully it’s a station in life without my name on it. On the upside, thanks to my self-imposed recession, part of my financial affliction is soon to be… well… amputated I guess.
As for work, things are flat out. Normally during the week, I’m anywhere from half of a person to a full person depending on the events of the day. As of Friday last week, I’m a full time person and then some. Aroundabout twenty percent over and above what a reasonably sane person would do in a week. Of course for such services I’m also getting paid like a person and and then some. I may be a fool, but I am not a prize fool. It may be tiring and borderline madness, but for three weeks I’m sure I can survive, and it’s a bit like living in fast forward when it comes to trying to work out if I should be teaching or not.
I’m off to see my favourite quack about my snoozing later this week, I’m not expecting any revelations, but if there’s anyone to come up with some brain waves, he’s as good a bet as any.