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Coin Purse

Mornings are like payday for me. I wake up flush with unspent moments. I'm optimistic and ready to spend my time on just about anything. I'm generous with my time and excruciatingly patient with even the most trying situation or personality.  The jangle of hours clink happily together as I begin my day.   Not much is too expensive, time wise, in the morning for me. This, despite my warped sleeping profile, conditioned by years of interrupted sleep, of a crouching ninja.

By noon, I'm still feeling rich with promise and energy to burn, but by 1, I start to draw on my savings.  The post lunch dive forces me to withdraw a little more than I mean to and I start being a little more miserly with my inner resources.

As suppertime and early evening hits, I am seriously overdrawn and counting the minutes until I can start getting paid again.  By nightfall, all my loans get called in and I'm digging for coins in every nook and cranny and frantically checking every pocket of every coat in the house. All those fresh faced promises I so liberally invested in earlier in the day become onerous commitments.  At bedtime, my kids are well aware that I am seriously in arrears and ask only for a coin or two before bed.  They know all too well that Mama doesn't get paid until the morning.

If, for whatever reason, something like a stomach bug or a restlessness takes over and somehow the bedtime routine is unexpectedly extended, a type of fiscal crisis hits, the coin purse snaps shut and bankruptcy is declared.  You'll just have to wait 7 hours to get anything else out of me.

How about you?  At what time of day are you clenching your last reserve in your fist and when are you throwing hundred dollar bills down on the street below?




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