Overkill

Crayon dish cloth and matching glasses

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Today I am grateful for overkill.  The other day when I was crocheting, my eyes wore out so I laid my glasses and the dish cloth I was working on, on the pillow on my lap.  Really?  A perfect match.  By accident. Total and complete overkill!

 

When I worked I prided myself on wearing glasses to match my outfit.  The kids got a kick out of it and my colleagues thought I was too much.  True on both counts.  I’ve been known to wear two pairs of “peepers” at a time if something is printed in an ant-sized font.  And I put them over sunglasses when I’m outside in summer, which is a very sexy look.

 

Today I needed two hundred pairs of glasses to try and clear up a huge mistake in our checking account.  Huge by normal people standards?  Probably not.  But I take pride in exact bookkeeping.  (All evidence to the contrary today.)  We were overdrawn.  Not by much, but overdrawn is overdrawn and I could hear my dad’s voice shouting, “What is the matter with you, you dumkaupf?  Dontcha know how to subtract?”  We have overdraft protection so the damage isn’t enormous, but it pisses me off anyway.

 

I sat with the account up on the computer, the checkbook, the calculator, tech support and the nice woman who answered when I called to tell them they must have made a mistake.  Love to pass the blame!  Surely it wasn’t me being stupid!  She was kind and said maybe we thought we had more in the account because something still had to clear.  Yeah?  No.  I explained that we are old and do not count on the on-line numbers. . .but look in the checkbook register to see the true balance.  Then I had to explain what a checkbook register was.  Poor young thing.

 

Even though I reconcile the checkbook every month, I literally subtracted every transaction going back three months, comparing them off with the on-line info.  Still I was off.  A lot.  Finally, after almost four hours, six pairs of glasses, two bottles of eye drops, a bucket of frustrated tears, I asked Himself if he could do the subtraction again, because I needed to hit the showers for an attitude adjustment and to wash off the flop-sweats of anxiety.

 

He did.  And he found the mistake.  And he was kind about it.  Never called me a dumkaupf once.  I think he was glad it wasn’t his mistake.   I paid the bills alright.  I just “added” one nice-sized check instead of “subtracting” it.  Swell.  Dumkaupf!

 

So dad, you’re right.  Apparently I don’t know how to subtract!  Not even extra glasses helped me to find that mistake.  So today, my brain cells are only registering overkill. . .in several ways.  But I prefer the colorful one the most.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s