My spouse and I do this: automatic payments of a set dollar amount per week to a savings account. Joint credit card for most bills, paid out of savings account once a month. I contribute cash for most physical purchases due to sometimes receiving cash tips. He pays a specific bill every month. All groceries, booze, medical bills are shared. Random home purchases tend to be shared. Personal clothing and fun stuff, usually separate, unless we're shopping together and it's easier to ring up one pile of stuff. Works for us, somewhat.
I finished my 2013 taxes yesterday, and now I feel like I should be DONE with 1 thing. One damn 1 thing after another. I just want to curl in a very small ball. My 1 thing will be dishes/laundry. In many ways, it is 2 things, but alternative 1 things are still more arduous.
Right now I have some ominous shit going on where I'm getting cc'd on letters from my midwives' billing dept to my insurance company, begging to be reimbursed for some pretty standard prenatal testing, and replies from the insurance co where they say "medical review is required." Who will win??? Me, probably. Right? I am dragging my feet on calling to see if they will cover the AFP test, where they screen for neural tube defects like anencephaly and spina bifida. Like, most babies have closed spines and plenty of skull, right? The lab they used for the nuchal translucency test already sent me a bill directly. It is really frustrating.
Thanks for writing this.
Ooh, girl. I did derby for about 5 years. It was exhilarating and fun, and I made just about all my friends in this town, and my now-husband. I learned that it was possible for me to be athletic, and I learned a lot about committee work, and my own capabilities when it comes to planning big events with a lot of moving parts. I also went through a number of years being pretty bitter and regretful about the whole thing, because of the opportunity cost. If you're already well on track with your paid career, your experience is probably going to be different from my own, but as one lady with overdeveloped quad muscles to another, I say to you to be careful about setting boundaries with this sport, and be careful you're not pouring all your career energy into roller derby. Even if you're carefully skipping beers and t-shirts, don't let (for example) derby e-mail or whatever your league uses to communicate eat up your working hours. It's pissy and spoilery to go on like this, so I will say congratulations for finding a sport you love and finding your toughness.
@wendyleigh I volunteer at an open admission shelter, and I find it to be fulfilling. Animal shelter politics can get kind of gnarly, especially in their Internet incarnations (ie, people using the terminology "kill shelter" in their networking), and I'm not trying to run down any kind of shelter or rescue, but be careful about writing off open-admission shelters wholesale as being too emotionally difficult or whatever. It can certainly be the case for some people, but when I see people express these "Oh, I could never" sentiments, it makes me feel weird because I can?
I'm vegetarian, and I rarely buy leather. So far, I have avoided foot death. My pet peeve is that the old-lady sneaker-flat-maryjane things I favor (I require my feet to be very, very comfortable) sometimes include tiny amounts of stupid leather trim for no reason.
I shoot the shit with people all day, professionally, and asking "What do you do?" is just a way in. Right up there with "Got any big weekend plans?" for things you can say to strangers. I also read an interesting blog post a few months back about how people can sometimes ask this question of men more often than they do of women, and also more often describe men by their professions and women by their hobbies.
If I ever need to ("need to") work up a good head of rage, I gaze at one of the Lululemon totes littering the break room at work, read one of the stupid commands ("Dance floss travel! ") and think at the bag, as hard as I can, "I WILL DO NO SUCH THING."
God, I feel like I became the household crusher of dreams for questioning my husband's desire to go to culinary school, but I stand by it.