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Archive Category: Money
The Pay Off
Friday, 28 January 2005
Surprisingly, the bank did not lie. My ‘refinancing funds’ appeared today. I have to admit to reloading the webpage numerous times, merely to take in my account balance. That done, I paid off our lounge suite, phone, electricity, boat rent, storage and Humber registration. It still didn’t feel real, so I went and bought the first new pillow I’ve ever purchased, two bottles of wine and a cheap Italian meal. I AM GETTING MUCH HAPPIER, GET OUT OF MY WAY. (Oh. I also bought dark orange Lindt Chocolate…and some Chai Syrup…can you tell?)
Credit Limit: Nil
Wednesday, 2 February 2005
I just closed my credit card accounts. Debt reconsolidation does have quite a few high points! The lady in the bank was just going to take my card away and stick it in the shredder. I demanded that she give me scissors so I could get some closure. Voila!
On the up & up
Wednesday, 2 March 2005
All you sad people who voted Howard back in because you were dumb enough to believe his fiction about ‘keeping interest rates low’? They may still be in single figures, but they’ve just gone up. Read about it here and read more about it here and then go here…
This bodes not so well for selling our house…or maybe it does? People struggling to service a $300k mortgage might want to downgrade to a $200k one. [looks hopeful]
$500 for World’s Best Tea Cosy
Monday, 7 March 2005
Via my sister - queen of the cosy:
The Queensland town of Miles in Australia is set to become the tea cosy capital of the world with a call for entries in the inaugural World Tea Cosy Making Competition.
With four categories and A$500 first prize, the competition is sure to “draw� a fascinating array of tea cosies from around the globe, said organizer Ann Gibbons.
“Legend has it that the tea cosy was ‘invented’ in the early 1800s by an Irish farmer whose woollen hat accidentally fell on a teapot so we are expecting entries from as far away as Ireland,� Ann said.
The four categories are:
· knitting and/or crochet
· embroidery
· any other medium eg appliqué, patchwork
· novelty.
The winner of each category will receive A$200 with an additional A$300 to the overall winner.
More on Banks
Tuesday, 10 May 2005
Was just reading more about banks and their internet fee rorting and saw a link that seems quite useful:
It allows you to compare many different accounts and see which one tries the hardest to suck the life out of your hard earned dollars. In the past I’ve used BankChoice, but this seems better.
It’s all about counting to TEN
Saturday, 27 May 2006
I called the real estate agents from admidst Friday evening rush hour traffic. Poised to make a right hand turn.
“Hello, The Professionals.”
“Hi! Could you tell me what time you close tonight?”
“Who’s speaking?”
“It’s B. I’m going to be renting the trailer out the back of that house. The one with the ostrich. I’m on my way but stuck in traffic.”
“Oh right.”
“Well - I’m really stuck in traffic at the moment.”
“Oh. Are you?”
“And I Just Need To Know WHAT TIME YOU CLOSE?
“Ah. The girl will be here until five o’clock, and…
“Thank you. Bye.”
I drove on, gritting my teeth. I arrived at the real estate agent at 4.59pm. All lights were one, sign was out, there were at least four people still behind the counter.
“Hi, I’m running a bit late, but I’ve come to sign the rental agreement and pay the first months rent and bond.”
The girl behind the counter looked at me non-plussed.
“Well, Doris is sick, so the condition report hasn’t been done, but that might not be a problem, I’ll just give her a call.”
I sat and waited for ten long minutes.
She came back. I eyed her hopefully. Got my purse out.
“OK. Well, did Doris tell you that the bond has to be paid with a money order made out to RTB?”
“Sorry?”
“A. Money. Order.”
“From. The. Post. Office. Yes, I know. And no, I had no idea. I thought I’d be able to pay everything on Eftpos.”
“Oh no. We don’t have Eftpos.”
“Oh. Right. Well, is there a bank around here?”
“No, just the post office, and that’s closed.”
“Right. Well can I pay it over the net - just direct deposit into your account?”
She looked at me blankly, and the boss chimed in, “Oh, we’re all ladies here you know… Oh, we’re jsut a small business you know. We’ve been thinking of implementing that, but…no.”
I took a very deep breath, almost inhaling them both. “OK. So you’re saying I have to [squeezing the words out] Pay. In. Cash. And that’s how I’m going to have to pay my rent?”
“Oh yes,” the main guy said companionably, “Just bring it down to the office every second Saturday morning.”
I gripped the counter for support, and then made a quick exit, muttering that I’d see them on Monday clutching wads of currency and the Money Order.”
It is going to take me a little time to adjust to country life.
Homewares Ahoy!
Tuesday, 6 June 2006
Uh oh. With the prospect of setting up house in front of us for the first time in about a bazillion years (read: “3″) M and I have gone a little bit crazy on the homewares thing. In the beginning (oooh, all of about a week ago) our justification was that if we were going to be living in a trailer, then by god, we were going to do it in style. Our NSW friends began the whole thing when they bought us a Fiuri knife set…and it just went on from there… And thus we purchased a sexy kettle, a gogglingly good frypan, cheap K-Mart tab top curtains and a chopping board. Cut to today when I bought my first ever whitegood over $100 (actually - it was a long way past that), justifying the purchase with:
“It’s very environmentally friendly. The NSW and WA governments give you water-saving rebates for buying one…too bad I’m in Victoria. It’s small. It’ll last forEVER.”
But the truth was, basically, that I knew it kicked arse. After schlepping our clothes and bedding through a variety of coin laundries in NSW, I put two loads through J’s Maytag front loader. I almost didn’t recognise them when they emerged. They were at least three shades brighter. They were, in fact, clean.
“What the hell is ‘Maytag’?” I asked in a way that said I’d spent too long in Hervey Bay.
“It’s a very styley washing machine that I picked out when my mum offered to buy us one,” she said. Or something to that effect.
I was smitten.
This morning I went to Grays Auctions, stout of heart, determined to get us one for under its registered retail price (my aim in all conquests). As someone who had used their grandma’s tiny washing machine from 1991 until 2005, I felt that my obsession was a teeny bit justified. And felt even better about it when my sister told me how much their front loader had cost. I hung around for about two hours before the bidding got to the machine of my dreams (there were only two 6kg ones there, so I had to be quick).
I’ve never bidded on anything before, but instead of my usual stagefright, I had determination. I bidded against another guy, who was equally keen. Luckily we were the only two who were intent on buying, and ended up with one each. It cost half of the registered retail price, even with the extra 12.5% that they slug you as a ‘buyers premium’. The process of paying what I owed and actually getting my hands on The Whitegood, was very, very long. I had to help some guy lift a stove into his tiny hatchback in order to make off with the trolley he was using. I then found out that, even though it’s quite small, The Whitegood weighed equivalent to at least two or three Fender Twins. So then I had to get help from another guy, who took pity on me dragging it behind me on a trolley.
Finally I got it back to the trailer (where, btw, we won’t be living until Thursday night) and M lavished it with praise. It fits in the bathroom beautifully, and J sent me a congratulatory text and recommended the ‘handwashing cycle’. I can’t wait to use it.
M meanwhile, had done a sterling job on cleaning the kitchen and also washing down the walls of the loungeroom. Poor thing. The kitchen was SO gross that he had to go out into the fresh air three times to stop himself wanting to be sick. It was coated in truckloads of hideous mank - the kind you can imagine crawling all over your body if you accidentally fell asleep there. Oven cleaner didn’t even cut it - he had to hack away at the mank using his fishing knife. Oh the humanity. We were given about three days free rent due to the grossness, but it should have been at least a week, as we’ve had to steam the carpet twice as well. Grrr.
Over-careful?
Tuesday, 23 January 2007
After being stranded on the freeway and having my credit card rejected, VirginMoney got in contact with me the following day. Infuriated by the AboutUs site, I had gone to my domain registrar and made my domain private. However, VirginMoney decided that the transaction looked odd, and as they were unable to contact me about it, put a block on my card. Thus, I was stranded on freeway due to stupid AboutUs, my reaction to it, and the zealousness of VirginMoney. I have to say, I’m sure I’ve done transactions that seem more dodgy than a $10 payment to godaddy.com - but who knows? Maybe they thought I was paying cash to some kind of incest fansite… It’s good that they are on to this stuff - my former boss’s bank didn’t contact him until his credit card was overdrawn by a phisher to the tune of $15,000 - but I really could have done without it this time.
Dollar Signs - Currency Whine
Tuesday, 6 February 2007
I am becoming fascinated with the disparities of price in between the US and Australia. I know that our dollar is fairly crap, but still… I can get 1GB RAM for my macbook for $125US ($162AU) new from US Ebay, but over here it is about fifty bucks more - about $225AU. I was just having a look at the cost of AppleCare - the thing that gives you a further two year warranty on the one year warranty you get with your Mac.
AppleCare for a macbook in the US?
$250US which equals $322AU
AppleCare for a macbook in Australia?
$420AU which equals $325US
So to buy AppleCare for my macbook in Australia it would cost $98AU more than if I bought it in the US. Which is where I bought my macbook. This sucks. Not that I am going to get it, because I’m almost sure it would be a waste of money… except that things seem to happen in threes. My first ThinkPad was struck by lightning, my second ThinkPad developed a fatal case of dead motherboard… and…
I’ll leave it there. The most recent ThinkPad was taken off my hands today for a small amount of cash. And I bet the guy who took it is going to make about a 500% profit on it when he fits it with a new motherboard, which is something I was too scared (read ‘both lazy and intimidated’) to try.
Why I STILL hate HSBC
Thursday, 8 February 2007
Quite some time ago I pointed out that HSBC probably stands for His Satanic Bastard Conglomerate. And here as well. This appears to still be the case. I accidentally transferred some money into my long unused HSBC account. When I’d finally traced where it had got to, via the rude people at Elders Rural Online Banking and the extremely nice people at Victoria Teachers Credit Union, I had a sinking feeling. It was again going to be Me Vs. HSBC.
And of course, that’s what it was. When they had finally confirmed my identity they refused to take my PO Box address as my only address. I instructed them that I have no residential address as I live on someone else’s property. They didn’t care. I then told them to just use my old address in Hampton, if they were going to be so bloody inflexible. They said that would be fine. Dickheads.
Once all my odds and sods were updated, I asked if I could now log onto my account online and transfer my money from their clutches. (Don’t ask me why I don’t just close the account. Just don’t.) Yes, they said. It’s still a ten digit pin and a six digit password? Yes, they said. Did you just steal a bit of my soul I’ll never get back? Yes, they said.
I hung up. Went to log in. Found that my password, unused for several years, popped obligingly on to my fingertips. Which made it all the more annoying when it refused to log me in, instead instructing me to call the number I had just rung. I called them back, instructing them to send the previous customer service agent directly to jail without passing go. Yes, they said.
Again, I went through a bamillion ID checks. Sooooo patient. I asked why I couldn’t log in. There was the sound of a wrinkled brow. Ahhh. Because I hadn’t logged in for so long they had implemented a system by which I needed a special security key device thing which needs to be SENT TO ME IN THE MAIL. I explained very carefully that all I wanted to do was transfer the money back out of my account. Yes, they said, that will cost you five dollars. I bit off a bit of the phone and told them that it was precisely for reasons such as this that I don’t use their stupid services anymore.
The saga ended with HSBC:1 and Me:0 – the only way I can transfer my OWN money out without being charged is by waiting for some nobariffic security key to be snail mailed to the PO Box. One day karma is going bite what is no doubt their MASSIVE conglomerated arse, and I can hardly wait.
UniSuper - my voluntary contribution investigations and misinformations
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
I have stupidly been making my own paltry little voluntary contributions to my super fund by having them automatically transferred from my account after payday. Yesterday, while quietly inquiring whether I could be paid $7 less and thus forgo paying HECS (my ultimate goal being to die with my HECs debt intact), WorkL and I got on to the topic of super and salary sacrifice. Of course, all this time I should have been making my paltry voluntary contributions from my wages before tax so my wages are subject to less income tax and (possibly) HECs. Anyway, ignore the HECs angle for a bit – my whinge is about UniSuper, my esteemed superannuation company.
Because I work part time, my super contributions aren’t that much. You would assume that UniSuper would be gagging for contributions, no matter how small. But no. I can’t even deposit a voluntary contribution unless it is over $80 [I have just called them and it has been lowered to $50 - better, but not great]. So instead of depositing $20 a week directly into my super account, I have been putting it aside for a month until it adds up to $80 and can then be deposited.
Now this is a pain in the arse for me, but I have got around it by wily setups of automatic transfers. But it is one thing for me to do that, and another to expect my employer to bother with it. It’s apparently fairly rare for casual employees to be allowed to have before-tax salary sacrifice set up, so they are already being very accommodating. Now I have to tell them that not only do they have to put it aside until it adds up to a minimum of before they can transfer it, but each time they make a deposit they have to FAX UniSuper to LET THEM KNOW what portion of the super they have deposited is my voluntary contribution. I’m sorry, but aren’t we in 2007?
WorkL tells me that the other super funds she deals with not only don’t have a “$50 minimum deposit limit” but what happens is this: you have your primary super account into which your mandatory employer contributions go, and then you have a secondary account into which your voluntary contributions go i.e. each account has a different number – thus ensuring that no one needs to be faxed about what is mandatory and what is voluntary. So simple. And yet, when I spelled this out to the poor customer service robot on the other end of the phone, he spluttered at me and said he’d never heard of such a thing. Losers. Surely this is a form of low-income discrimination? I am female, which means statistically, as far as superannuation goes, I am already at a disadvantage – why do they have to make it even HARDER? Gah.
UPDATE: Well. I was dwelling deleting all of the above, but it serves to show that if customer service agents are representing your company, then maybe they should actually KNOW what they’re talking about. With a bit more digging, and more reliance on their website rather than someone on the other end of a phone, it turns out, rather obviously in retrospect, that there are two BPAY codes - one for employers contributions, and one for voluntary contributions - both of these go into the same account. Good. Because there was no way that my employer was going to FAX them every time a contribution was made. UniSuper, you’re not as hopeless as I thought - but it would be better if you lowered your minimum BPay voluntary deposit amount to, say, $10. I’m sure you can afford it.
I hate you, Elders Rural Bank
Thursday, 17 May 2007
And further to my war with banks… I opened an account with Elders Rural Bank a year or so ago, because as we all know, I loathe the air that HSBC breathe, and I was looking for an account with a better interest rate than INGDirect. So I went through the whole schtick, got my application form witnessed by three Swedish virgins and the lesser known Victorian tree frog, and nominated my credit union account to be linked to my new account - as it is an ‘online account’ and therefore lives in the ether.
ERBOnline (as they call themselves) and I got along quite well. No dramas. Of course their BSB information is impossible to find on their site, but it’s a bit much to expect a bank site to demonstrate any kind of superior usability. Then one of their call centre drones called me at work on Tuesday:
“Hi Beth, sorry to call you at work,” she said, not sounding at all apologetic, “But it’s the only number we have for you.”
“That’s right,” I agreed, and waited.
“I’m just calling on behalf of Elders Rural Bank…”
[I immediately decided it was a phishing attempt, and wriggled delightedly in my seat in anticipation.)
“…to let you know about our security upgrade.”
[I knew it. Any moment she was going to ask for my account details.]
“I’m not sure whether you noticed on your last statement, but we detailed the introduction of a new security key for all our account holders…”
I groaned. This was not a phishing attempt, this was pure bureaucratic white noise. “Not you too…”
“Yes, in an effort to tighten our security, every account holder will need a security token…”
“Just like my HSBC account. Oh well. Whatever…”
“It’s very important to us that our customers have the highest possible internet security, so you just need to purchase a token…”
I screamed. She stopped speaking abruptly.
“Sorry,” I said, recovering, “You didn’t just say the word ‘purchase’. Did you?”
“It’s just a twenty dollar one off fee.”
“WHAT?!”
“…which will be directly debited from your account…”
“I’m SORRY?”
“…and will enable you to use the ‘pay anyone’ option on your account.”
“Are you telling me that I have to PAY for the privilege of transferring my OWN money out of my OWN account?”
“It’s just a twenty dollar one off fee that will give you improved online security…”
“I’m sorry. Are you joking? Is this mandatory? Because there is no way I am going to BUY anything from you. Can I still access my account without a token?”
“Well, it is for the benefit of our customers. Only last night a man had two thousand dollars extracted from his account, and if he’d had the security token…”
“I SO don’t care.”
“It’s there to HELP our customers…” she trailed off.
“Can. I. Access. My. Account. Without. A. Security. Token.?”
“Yes. You can access your account. But you won’t be able to do any ‘pay anyone’ transfers.”
“So,” I said, as the rest of the people in the office looked at me with interest as my face got redder, “I won’t be able to transfer my own money out of my own account. How useful. Will I be able to transfer it to the credit union account that I nominated on my account application form?”
“Well, you see, that’s not actually a ‘linked’ account, it’s just the account that you nominated for us to use to transfer out the initial balance when your account was created.”
“So I can’t even transfer MY OWN MONEY TO MY OWN SELF?”
“Not without a security token. But you’ll still be able to use BPay without it.”
“And when,” I seethed at her, “does this come into effect? Because I won’t ever be buying a security token and will obviously have to close my account.”
“…but it’s only twenty dollars…”
“That’s not the POINT.”
“I think it comes into effect in August.”
“You think? Well that’s a start.”
I hung up, and ranted around the office, as everybody there said how outrageous it was. I wondered, uselessly, how much Elders Rural Bank had profited in the last financial year and, if they had to get all security tokeny, why they could not just send all their customers a security token for FREE? Fuckers. I googled in fury - Elders Rural Bank made a profit of $30.6 MILLION for the 2005/2006 financial year. And now I want to kill them even more. I called them back; another drone confirmed what I’d been told and said I would have to apply in writing, via snail mail, to have my account closed. I am never going to close that account. It can sit there empty and ROT.
The baby dollar
Sunday, 12 August 2007
This weekend has been somewhat devoted to the profligate spending of money on the unborn. It began when I stumbled on a pram (PRAM!! It freaks me out just to type it.) on ebay and recklessly hit the evil ‘Buy It Now’ button. The pram wasn’t too far from here, it was the exact model that had been recommended to us two weeks ago by someone who knows and there was enough money in our ‘bills’ account to cover it. We went and picked it up on the peninsula on Saturday, handed over the dough and hastily stuffed it in the back of the car. We both kept sneaking hunted glances at it as we noodled our way through Somers, Balnarring, Coolart and Moorooduc.
Mornington was a bit of a revelation to us. We’d only ever been to the industrial part of it, but this time went down to the bay. It’s gorgeous, and generally protected - a perfect place for a picnic and to go sailing in Moo. The shops there were kind of cool too - an apparent abundance of cafes, as well as a couple of bookshops. Mornington is nice.
Today M accompanied me to a ‘baby market’ in Berwick. It was a strange and freaky occasion!! There were a bazillion prams, bouncer things, and scads and scads of clothes. M and I had crack lessons from stallholders about what the sizes 00 and 0 correspond to in age, and then realised that it was sort of irrelevant because PartyPie might be a long stringy noodle of a baby or a fat little todger. There seems to be a distinct lack of bright coloured clothes (that aren’t pink or blue), so we just wandered the stalls pouncing on bright orange items and tiny sunhats. M got to investigate some modern cloth nappies that I’d been telling him about, and all in all, it wasn’t too scary. PartyPie scored some supercheap cool clothes that might fit during the correct seasons…or not, and we got a bit more used to the whole idea. Doesn’t stop me feeling like a strong gin, lime and tonic though.
I am suggestible. It must stop.
Friday, 9 November 2007
I was supposed to be working from home today, but M and I indulged in a sleep-in until 9am and I pottered around for another hour or so, getting ready to get stuck into some report typing. Then Mme (my French co-worker) called to say her next door neighbour was having a garage sale in the morning with heaps of baby gear and did I want to go around today for a preview? This is a 50 minute drive away, but it was a beautiful day. So off I went. M had already taken the new car so I tooled along in Small Brother’s wheels, my head throbbing gently in the sun coming through the window in the roof (it’s a targa-top with the roof visors long disappeared). I put my hat on.
When I arrived the woman had to leave in 15 minutes for an appointment, so she and Mme stood there while I sort of flailed around asking how much the carseat was, could I look at the portacot, which toys had been good for her kids - because, hey - I’m still in general denial, I just like to bargain hunt. It was one of those icky situations where I was obviously expected to buy something as she’d got out all this stuff for me to look at. Meanwhile, I could tell that this stuff was not going to be normal old cheap garagey-sale stuff.
I was fairly impressed by the portacot thing - in the way that someone who has never seen one before could be. It seemed to work with a two flicks of the wrist - where there had been a sort of upright rectangular thing, there was suddenly something that looked cotlike. They were looking at me. Not tapping their feet - on the outside. I caved. [sigh] Sixty dollars later… (surely that isn’t a ‘garage sale’ price…surely).
Went back next door to Mme’s and she had got out a whole lot of her kids old toys. About three quarters of them were really cool. I put them into a pile. I thought she was going to GIVE them to me. Another awkward situation, due to my inability to say I AM NOT INTERESTED AND I DO NOT FEEL OBLIGED - and I quietly haemorrhaged more money, inwardly apologising to PartyPie as I thought of how grumpy I was going to be whenever I recalled how I could have spent the cash on more important things like some decent red wine or some exciting champagne. I drove limply to my mothers, and was salved by her offer to pay for the portacot (yes, I am not only malleable when faced with people expecting me to buy their stuff, but also when people offer to pay for it on my behalf). So the day was saved, and I slunk home to trailerland, instructing myself to say NO NO NO NO and I DON’T THINK SO, NO - the next time this stuff happens to me. Gah.
Say hello WINNER. (Me, I mean.)
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
So yesterday I bit the bullet and ordered a tonne of redgum, because I was sick of M having to bring home bits of good timber from the shed that could be used for things other than keeping us all warm. This was hard, as I come from a family who Does Not Pay For Wood. Ever. But goes out with a chainsaw after big storms and collects it from public land alongside country roads. [cue John Denver. Or actually, don’t.] It cost two hundred dollars. And ordinarily I’d be choking while I typed…
But this afternoon while I was changing Small Z, the phone rang. It’s astonishing that it was even plugged in, because I unplug it whenever she’s asleep and always forget to put it back. So it rang, and it was the Environmental Education Officer from my council - City of Casey. She told me I’d won this month’s draw for the THREE HUNDRED DOLLAR cloth nappy rebate. Oh. MY. GOD! I entered over a month ago - the deal is that you sent in all your receipts for the cloth nappies you’d bought in 2008 and if you won, they would refund up to $300. Woo!
That covers the firewood and leaves a hundred over, which I plan to spend on an Ergo sling - it craps all over the BabyBjorn (which was, admittedly, excellent, until Small Z recently became, Still Small But Curiously Weighty Z) and is less complex than the Hug-a-Bub. I have been listing things for sale on ebay over the last two days in an effort to get together enough money for the Ergo - but VOILA!
This is our ‘triumphant’ picture. Where we lay on the play mat and I look excited and Small Z muses on what she can spend the cash on.
It would be good karma to spend it on joining the Australian Nappy Network who helped the council put the offer together… Small Z and I have to go into the council and get our photograph taken for the local paper, and I think I’ll also get the opportunity to pimp modern cloth nappies in the article. Of course I am vain, and am now feverishly thinking - haircut? Or hat? (I can hear my mother thinking from 50 kilometres away “What will Small Z wear? It better be one of those GREAT things I brought her back from the USA. One of the ones I’ve NEVER SEEN HER IN. How about that LITTLE DENIM SKIRT?” Stay out of my blog, mum.
And the fun did not stop there. I had invented a bit of a traffic stopper dinner (well, for me…) of cous cous with roast pumpkin and garlic with baked salmon, and was putting it together as a surprise for M who was on the couch. I craved beer. “I wish I’d got some beer,” I murmured. M went to the fridge like a love-robot and handed me a Coopers Sparkling Ale. I was astounded. They had been there all day. They were so quiet, I never knew.
And THEN… M whispered Small Z to sleep in TEN MINUTES. Holy god. AND THEN…I forgot to mention. She drank from a bottle today. PROPERLY. TWICE. My killer touch was to whip her in between boob and bottle. And it was a SUCCESS. And now, I will go to bed. Full of stomach, warmed by free redgum, capital letters and happy of heart. And if that’s not POSITIVE POSTING THEN I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS. Ha!
The old man is snoring
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
It’s raining. It’s pouring. It seems to be ages since I woke up with rain splattering hard on the windows. It’s been going hard since about 5.30am. PartyPie kindly got me up at 6am - I think to let me know that today she is six months and one day old. How weird is that? I look back on photos of her when we came home from the birth centre and gasp at her smallness (even though eight pounds three ounces felt anything but).
Yesterday we went op-shopping to celebrate. I got a beaded silvery dress that will be appropriate for my invite to the Savage Club at the end of the month (am not sure how I will be able to go unless M wanders the city with PartyPie, bringing her to be fed and then disappearing again, but still…) and Small Z got a hot pink velour number. We bought M two work shirts and some trousers.
Small Z lay on the floor of the change room on top of my coat while I shimmied in the dress, and seemed quite happy with her lot. Admittedly, our shopping was also retail therapy to try and help our sadness at having to cancel our holiday to northern NSW at the end of the month 
Oh, woe. We booked it back in about January on a post-birth high, forgetting about important things like MONEY, MONEY and MONEY. Gah. We did want to see our lovely friends and their lovely baby Small M who is just one month younger than Z. I plan to buy a Powerball ticket today.
