Free The Antelope in the Living Room: The Real Story of Two People Sharing One Life by Melanie Shankle Page A

he bought them from Cabela’s.)
    (As if any of you reading this book will care.)
    This seems like a good time to tell you that Gulley and her husband also went through a Dave Ramsey stage a few years ago, where she carried cash in different envelopes designated for various expenditures. It worked beautifully for about three weeks, until she had a complete mental breakdown in the aisle at Target because she couldn’t figure out if favors for her son’s birthday party counted as “miscellaneous” or “household expenses.”
    But at least they made an effort. And I’m sure Dave Ramsey knows what he’s doing, but some other friends of ours also opted to try out the cash-in-envelopes system, and someone stole all their money out of the wife’s purse while she was at work. I’m no financial genius, but having all your money stolen seems counterproductive to the entire concept of financial management. Although I’m sure the criminal appreciated that it was going to be easy to manage his ill-gotten gains, thanks to those handy labeled envelopes.
    I just know if I had to figure out all those envelopes, I’d get into some sort of Peter-robs-Paul-to-pay-Mary scenario where I wouldtake money out of “grocery” to buy shoes and tell myself I’d just cut back on “entertainment” to make up the difference. But then I’d forget and never make up the difference, and there would be a shortage or an overage or whatever it is the bank calls it when you don’t have money where you are supposed to have money. Essentially, I’d become a one-woman Enron corporation.
    But we weren’t completely irresponsible. We didn’t spend more than we had, and we were careful not to get into debt, because that had been a painful lesson I’d learned in my early twenties. Those credit card companies aren’t playing when they say 22 percent interest, which doesn’t make up for the free blanket they give you when you sign up for a Visa. And we were certainly more sensible than a couple I know who decided during their first year of marriage that they were sad they couldn’t afford to go on vacation, so they sold their car, bought ski clothes, and flew to Colorado with the proceeds.
    I bet their parents were so proud.

    I do think I have at least a tad of financial sense, thanks to my dad. Charles Marino has never met a dollar he didn’t immediately invest into some type of sensible, high-yield mutual fund. When I was a child, there were nights you could barely sleep from the sound of pennies yelling from being pinched. The man still owns a rust-colored velour jogging suit he bought in 1976. AND WEARS IT. Even though, in all fairness, he did buy me a pair of Guess overalls in 1984 that cost $80. And $80 in 1984 is the equivalent of like $400 in today’s economy. Which is a lot to pay for your thirteen-year-old to look like a jaunty farmer.
    My point is that finances in marriage can be a dicey proposition. It’s hard for two people from two different backgrounds to reconcilehow to manage a joint checking account. To this day, Perry still doesn’t see how a new living room rug is something we need, and I don’t believe anyone should buy Williams-Sonoma peppermint bark in bulk quantities just because it’s on sale.
    So, like everything in life that isn’t fun, dealing with finances requires some compromise. And a little bit of understanding. And occasionally sneaking in packages from the car when Perry isn’t home, and when he asks if something I have on is new, replying, “What? This? I’ve had it FOREVER. I can’t believe you don’t remember.”
    (I’m not advocating deception. I prefer to call it creative consumerism.)
    I also tend to round things down to fifteen dollars. Any time Perry asks me how much anything costs, I just say, “Fifteen dollars.” He knows this isn’t the case since we aren’t living in 1975, but he goes with it because it makes us both feel better. A girl I used to work with did the same thing with her