Financial, emotional, whatever. No matter what relief I need, the only break I'm ever offered is skeletal.
We're overspending. And my finances mount up to a quarter of Beloved's income. The remainder of that does not cover the bills. And to put things into perspective, I can't just go out and flip burgers. I'm forty-five. I have few marketable skills. I'm not going to be preferred over someone else who can work for less, for longer.
Should I try to re-enter the workforce? Should I try harder to sell my books?
I'm already set up for disappointment. My entire life to date has been one gigantic disappointment. Try my heart out. Fail anyway. Work and work and work and fail.
At least my death would be one lump sum payment and no more drain on anyone else. But I can't think like that. I'd just shift the burdens I carry around to someone else who probably can't handle it anyway.
If there is a plus side, my Beloved finally understands why I was so stressed out about income and outgoing expenditure, way, way back when we were first attempting to have a home. And I don't even know if they understand that this is what I've been stressing about for decades together.
Meanwhile, I have the wherewithal to get myself nice things, but I can't help thinking how my frugal habits would rub our economic paucity in my Beloved's face. So. In the meantime... I am the sole food-getter.
Starting next week, it'll be stew for a while until I wrangle the exact expenditures and so forth.
And I may or may not run for PM in the future. Which might be interesting but heartbreaking to do. I'll stand for all the counter-intuitive shit. Minimum Basic Income. Legalise (and professionally produce) all the drugs. Get rid of the toxic shit in there and have an amnesty where the addicts get help instead of firkin criminalised. Fuck gun laws. We need to tax the bullets. Actual reform programs for criminals so that they don't suffer recidivism. Alternative Energies for the win. Robin Hood Tax. Deem rich people on their offshore holdings. Bring back fucking Mutton. Only let Australian Companies operate in Australian turf. And they pay Australian taxes. Fund some actual fucking scientific studies to look at ALL the diets and figure out what the fuck's going on with human bodies.
I'd be up against the wall before I finished my oath of office.
Or just a political joke on the level of Vermin Supreme.
They've elected political jokes before. That's how the Muppet got in.