Poor Rapunzel

Don't feel sorry for me, but I'm impoverished. I have trees, but money isn't growing on them, so I hope they'll eventually provide some shade and a comfortable backyard. I need to buy some sod, but that means I can't buy other things I need. Like a new comb. On Sunday, I was combing my hair and my comb broke. In my hair. Like in "The Princess Diaries." It really happens. That's the second comb I've lost to my hair in the last couple months. I think I'm getting closer to chopping it off. It also gets caught when I shut my car door or roll up the window after going through the drive-through at the bank. Vanity is a very strong motivator, though.
Anyway, between the backyard stuff, a baby shower for my little Zoe Kaylene, feeding lots of people, and the pending holiday season, I'm stretched thin. I'm not one to live beyond my means and budgeting is no fun, but here I am. At least all my bills are paid and property taxes, homeowner's insurance and a pallet of pellets for my stove are behind me. So I guess I'm not forced into wandering the streets just yet.
All that stuff is completely bearable, though. I'll scrimp and save (and skip out on a vacation opportunity-- maybe two) and hopefully get back to a more comfortable cash flow situation. In a way, that's easy to fix. Currently, I'm more concerned about a bigger problem, namely a big chunk of my life that's been decidedly missing for about the last three weeks. The very perceptive amongst you would put two and two together and figure out that I mean the Pantry Boy. Pathetic? Probably. But still very true. It's hard to give someone up once they've seen the core of your emotional onion. But now it feels like it's out of my hands, so I'm just a little sad. I'm going to try to pull out of the Debbie Downer mode, though. There's too much to be happy about and you know, you get through these things.