Lord, have mercy.
When Richard was emptying trash this morning, he found in our son's trash the packing slip from an envelope that arrived in the mail yesterday showing that he spent $10 on some sort of gold commemorative medal or coin.
Ka-pow, ka-pow (that's the sound of me spitting nails.)
Well, he pays us room and board to live here, so I suppose what he does with the rest of his money aside from that is his own business. But given that he is on the verge of bankruptcy, one would hope -- just a little -- that he might make some wise decisions about how he spends those few remaining dollars that are left from his meager paycheck after he pays his bills and buys gasoline to get to work. He desperately needs underwear and new socks. Last week I had to sew up a terrific tear in one of his remaining few boxers. In fact, I almost bought him new underwear because I felt sorry for him.
Now I am just mad. Furious.
And also disappointed. Frustrated.
OK, taking a deep breath. Calming down. Going back to my article on extracranial carotid artery aneurysms.