Thanks a pantload, Chet

Hey, thanks a lot to the genius at the Minnesota DMV that somehow managed to register my car's tabs as expiring in September, but gave us a sticker that clearly says OCT on the new plates that arrived in January. And bang - up job to whoever is charged with sending out those registration reminders, seeing as I have not gotten one - at EITHER address. I haven't gotten one for the past THREE years at least - never mind what car, address or license I have.

And an even bigger thanks goes out to the law enforcement representative that pulled my husband over this morning and graciously offered NOT to tow our one working form of transportation for having theoretically expired tabs. The ticket, though? The one for them being expired although there is no reasonable way that we could ever decipher that? You can take that and shove it up your nose.

Not that I didn't have enough to keep me up last night after the baby's feedings at 2:30, 4 and 6 this morning. The lack of job prospects, mounting bills and general welfare of my little family wasn't enough. Now, I have something more tangible to add to that list - something in paper form. Something I can draw along the webs of my toes whenever I become too complacent with the general ease of managing this business of running a household on nearly no money and charity.

I mean, I know we're far from the worst off people you know - and man am I sick of this silly little blog being a dumping ground for the "Poor Me's" that run through my head. But, for the sweet panchetta stewing love of Giada DiLaurentis can we just have ONE WEEK where a new, unexpected expense doesn't raise it's gnarly little head and suck more of my minuscule savings dry?

GAH!