Why I am (psychologically) a CalvinistDivine retribution is swift and unerring. Yesterday, in a fit of self-pity, compounded by PMS, home-repair-overload, and general moral weakness, I bought myself a lovely but somewhat pricey bauble--something lovely that I didn't need but really, really wanted. Something that if my husband were alive he would a) approve of aesthetically; b) encourage me to purchase; c) contribute enough to the household income that the purchase would be a mere blip on the monthly exchequer.
By the time I got home, there was a message from the carpenter. The porch on the rental house is rotted and needs replacing. This, he cheerfully assures me, should "not cost more than a coupla thou."
In this case, I feel less like Edwards's proverbial spider dangling over the firepit of hell, and more like a fly encrusted on the underside of the Divine Swatter.