What's In Your Wallet?

Divorce is seriously expensive. Not only do you have the cost of lawyers and setting up your own home and (in my case) buying a dependable car over the piece of shit that got handed down to you like everything else you've ever owned, you pay for the things you indulge yourself in to make yourself feel better: little black dresses, vodka, knitting supplies, rollerskates.

After a bit, that catches up with you. I have not used my credit card since October except for my $15 monthly Netflix charge. My credit card lives in a tin box on top of my refrigerator (please don't come over to my apartment and steal it, dear readers. There's so much more in my home that I'm sure is more worth stealing: my painting of Bea Arthur, my broken closet door, my stained blue armchair that's covered in cat hair) so I won't be tempted to use it in a moment of weakness at something not worth it, like a pretzel from Auntie Anne's at the mall.

I have been working hard to pay off that debt, though it's slow going.

Apparently, the nice people who own my credit card have begun to notice this. For the last two months, I get mail nearly daily from them. It's clear to them I'm trying to break up (if you ever watched the British version of "Coupling," then you'll know what I mean when I say that they're the unflushable...), and they're not happy about it.

First, there's been the accusations that there's someone else; 75% of the mail I get is them trying to lure me back to using them by offering fantastic rates on transferred balances.

Once it became clear that, no, I just didn't want to be with them, they broke out the big guns - free return address labels. A whole six free return address labels (and frankly, I think it's deceptive for the envelope to read "Free Gift Inside" for six stickers)! When THAT didn't work, they began to send me blank checks that I can write my own amount in for and deposit into my checking account (which I actually use, and it's clear that not only is there not another man in this relationship, I've switched sides and gone over to ladies-only) because It's Just Like Real Money!

Let me tell you, it's never just like real money. And don't worry, Credit Card Peeps - I promise I'm coming home to you after I pay you off completely. It just might be years before that happens.