The not so amazing race

There are many truly awesome aspects of being a freelance copy editor. Getting paid four to five weeks after completion of a project is not one of them. Most of the time this isn't an issue, and most of the time payment arrives in three to four weeks. This month? Not so much. It's a day into week five and still no paycheck. The month I move to NYC. This is making it interesting. My bank account reads $0.00 and we're running out of groceries. Payment is coming, but will it beat our consumption?

A can of soup, three pieces of bread, three eggs, a stick of butter, a can of refried beans, pancake mix, a box of macaroni and cheese, half a box of penne, quarter bottle of pasta sauce, two frozen hamburgers, six slices of cheese, peanut butter, jelly, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and two end pieces of Italian bread. We ate pancakes tonight.

We can definitely survive a week on this. It just becomes an issue when we have pb&j but no bread, pasta but no sauce, and the like. It's a sitcomish situation for sure. Well, if we were funny and interesting and attractive and had an apartment big enough to accomodate multiple characters at once, it would be sitcomish. Actually, I should speak for myself. My husband is hot, funny, and smart (we are in this city so he can go to Columbia's Teachers College after all), so if it weren't for my lack of all things appealing our situation could be compared to a sitcom.

This isn't a plea for sympathy or even for funds - it was our decision to move to the big city. I also have credit cards (on which March's gloriously frivolous train trip across the country were charged), so we won't starve. It just seems super silly to swipe the plastic under the circumstances. A can of refried beans is totally a meal. I'll keep you posted, sports fans.