It probably does mean I shouldn't consider the white gold rings come the end of the month, though; we could get 'em, but it probably wouldn't be PRUDENT. I'll wait until I see if any other unforeseen payments pop up (like, Ghod forbid, car repairs or, even worse, emergency vet bills or anything), and then we'll see. In the meantime, I had my old IRA/stock funds moved to a brand-new, locked-in, protected ING Mutual Funds account, so now it can never sink lower than where it is now (woot, again), I've upped what I'm putting into my S&T at work, and overall... wow. I may actually be experiencing something close to financial security at long last. Even after paying the plumber $146 bucks to fix the sink. *le sigh, again*
It's going to be 88 degrees here by Monday, no rain in sight, and the chirpy moron sitting behind the anchor desk perks up with, "Looking good!" Oy.
I suppose it'll be nice for those going out to the Scottsdale Arts Festival (we never make that one - it's expensive). Missed the Tempe one last weekend; too busy.
The eldest son of two of my characters, who shouldn't be born until after the end of the third book, has popped up and started talking about himself and the summer he turned (will turn) 15. The question I pose to him (and anyone else who cares), is can I write a credible 15-year-old boy? Especially since he seems to be speaking first-person? (If J.K. Rowling can do it, I don't see why I can't.) I just need to fill out the events of that summer in my head...
(Will I go to hell for thinking bad thoughts about a man in the hospital? It's Dick Cheney, if that makes any difference...)