Tuesday, May 11, 2010

"Well aren't you just a big fat liar!"

“Your cell phone bill has arrived” said the e-mail from my bank. “View your bill” said the e-mail from my cell phone carrier. I clicked on the first, scrolled down, my eyes scanning for the number to plug into my budget spreadsheet.

Then I saw it. My mouth dropped open. $205? $205!?!? What the. . .!?

My mouth still gaping, I quickly clicked on the second e-mail, you know, to “view my bill,” all the while:
“I know I went over on texts, but . . .”
“Maybe we’ll just not tell M about this. Yeah, find a way to pay the extra $130. Take it from savings and just don't tell him.”
“Deception? Really? You always tell him everything about everything, no matter how incriminating. It’s like word vomit with you the minute you see him!”
“Yeah, but this is bad. We’ve never had a bill this high! What is going on?”
“He’s going to freak! I mean, normally, he doesn’t worry too much about money. But that was before the baby, and part-time work, and pulling money from savings for a new vehicle after being rear-ended, and having to pay for car repairs from his wife hitting a boulder – which, by the way, he made a point of telling everyone who worked on it along the way – and the bad budgeting of finances these last two weeks. . .”
“Oh, yeah. He doesn’t know about that last one, yet, remember?”
“Ugh. This is going to be messy.”

Seriously. I felt like Gollum/Smeagol.

“The number you entered does not exist” said the website.

“Omg! Did they shut off my phone?!?”
“Wait, do they even do that?”

Then I realized that in my distraction, what, with all the dialogue and mental asides going on in my head, I entered the wrong area code. I re-entered my number, more slowly this time, and my account pulled up. I clicked feverishly on “Account Summary” and began to investigate. Yes, there are my text overages. OK, there are our minute overages, but wait. . . $117 for minute overages!? What the. . .

I looked to see if I was the major offender, as I suspected might be the case since, you know, occasionally I do talk to people other than myself.


Nope! (Phew!) The verdict was right there in black and white on the screen: even Steven. He and I are equal opportunity offenders this time.

Even so:
“Well of course you went over! Hello! There was the accident last month, a boulder to contend with, and lots of other, related, nuclear fallout kind of stuff, right?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t really explain it. You have free mobile-to-mobile when you call each other. Who else were you calling?”
“Ummm. . . 911? The pediatrician? Body shops? Ummm. . . .”

If it went that badly with my own self, I can’t imagine how it’s going to go with M.

Wish me luck!

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