"19.99. This case of beer. It's usually $17.76." My husband put the case of beer down on the linoleum. "We're gonna have to drink this slower than usual."
So much for beer at the cookout.
We'd been planning a cookout to celebrate moving to the new house. But I went to the store this week to pick up hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, the usual stuff, and the bill came to $150. Two months ago, that was more than I spent in a month for groceries. Now?
"Have you heard from anyone about next weekend?"
"Yeah. Well, Bert isn't sure he can come down from Bethlehem. Roger's not coming, 'cause he's all the way in Jersey. Kate says she's coming, and so are your parents."
I hate that my friends and I are spread out. It wasn't a big deal, when you could afford to drive ten, twenty miles one way to hang out with someone. But now?
My sister lives in Florida. Other relatives are out in California, Missouri, Colorado. It was only seven months ago they were out here for our wedding.
Don't know when I'll see any of them again. Just can't afford it.