Chef and I are currently in an income layover.
You know, that wasteland of lost hope when your last pay runs out, the kids bank accounts are run dry and it’s a couple of days – which might as well be years – before the next pay day shows you the money.
Chef’s work situation changed abruptly three weeks ago and he’s still owed a couple of weeks holiday pay – that, school holidays and not getting paid from the new gig yet has been taxing. I get paid monthly and that’s due to fall into our account “any day now”.
The income layover is like the worst airport layover when you wander aimlessly refusing to buy exorbitantly priced bottles of water or a boxed dozen Krispy Kremes because you know none of those puppies is going to make it out of the uncomfortable waiting lounge chair alive. That and you eat enough cheeseburgers to trigger a listless state of maudlin and mild panic about just how backed up you’re going to get.
Yesterday I bemoaned on FB how hungry I was and that there was nothing to eat in the house a friend said I could make something good out of “lego blocks and tomato sauce”. Sure, she had a point but seriously, once you’re left with some butter and wilted celery even I am sorely tested. As it was I salvaged a half dead avocado, found a tomato of dubious age but passable softness, an onion and some seriously iced-up dark rye bread from the recesses of the freezer. Emma called me the “Macgyver of empty pantry food”. I’ll take that.
Last night we were saved by a moment of impressive freezer meal preparedness I’d clearly had when I was high – some marinated chicken wings I then roasted with potatoes – recipe to come.
It’s grim but not forever so my level of income layover anxiety is manageable. So you’ll excuse me now while I go and rustle up some school lunches from split peas and tinned beetroot.
How do you survive the income layover?
Onward!
