I’m not terrible at math. I am terrible with money.
My husband is a wiz with numbers. At work, he manages budgets in the billions. (Yes, billions). At home, he trusts the household budget to me.
Which means he has terrible judgment.
I do my best. The bills get paid on time-ish, the groceries are covered and I even have a nifty little spreadsheet that outlines our monthly expenses. (After much consideration I chose a more pleasing palette of purple and green as opposed to the more traditional red and black.)
I have, however, committed some minor offenses (snafus, if you will) that would, in my husband’s line of work, get me fired.
Like forgetting to cancel a post-dated payment on a credit card that we had already paid off and (presumably) closed. It could have been worse, although my husband argues that the fact I didn’t notice this payment was withdrawn from the account each month is worrisome.
Or accidentally paying an old utility account instead of the new one after our most recent move. I did catch this one within three months, after receiving a very surprising disconnection notice in the mail, with the letters “URGENT” printed in an aggressive red font.
There may be a few other harmless anecdotes, but we really don’t need to cover them all here. I’m sure everyone forgets about a cheque they wrote for highland dance shoes from time to time. And who really pays attention to budget vs. actuals, anyway.
With summer ending, school starting and (eiik) Christmas spending right around the corner, I really do have to up my financial game. I’m just grateful to have a patient, hard working husband who (in this case) can look over my shoulder every once in a while.