Money Monster Monkey

Here is the stack of tax files that I pulled out of the filing cabinet, on the porch. 

The filing cabinet that’s been sitting on the porch for a whole year, that you haven’t touched?      That’d be the one and only.

Okay, so hypothetically these files aren’t here.     Au contraire, but they obviously are.     Snap back into reality, Melinda!    Yes, yes, I know they are physically there.     But technically they aren’t, cuZ I already got rid of them in my mind, and marked them on my chart.

They are part of the 500 for Jan/Feb.     I see.   (Backs away slowly)   Now I understand.

The problem is; when I look at the whole stack, I get immediately overwhelmed.    My panic skyrockets, my heart rate Zooms to the ceiling, my palms get clammy, and I feel an immediate, desperate need for a nap.

They form a money monster monkey, whenever I walk by.     The monkey runs, and vaults onto my back, choking me with it’s surprisingly strong monkey paws.   It whispers nasty things into my ears.  “Look at this mess.    It’s a virtual roach condo here, with all the paper, and the cardboard.    You know how much they love cardboard.   And how they love running across the paper, leaving poop tracks everywhere.    Spreading germs far and wide.     Before you know it, you’ll have mice in here, chewing up the paper, making nests, and having lots of little, baby meeses.    How can you live like this, you laZy slob??    Don’t you care about your family at all??

I cover my ears, and attempt to run away, trying to shake it off my back.

“You’re not getting away that easy, my pretty.    You know I’m right.    LaZy, nasty, selfish slob.”

Finally, I wrest it off me, and get in the house, slamming the door, and locking it.     The monkey gets up, and climbs up the door to the window, screaming and shaking its fist.

I go climb in bed, and cover my face.   I know its right.   I berate myself.    “I am a nasty, laZy, selfish slob.   If I cared about my family at all, even a little bit, I’d get out there, and take care of that 1 thing.   Yeah, and you should take care of the whole house, while you’re at it.   You live in squalor.    What if someone called DCF??    Would they remove the girls because this house is such a wreck??   Oh my God!  I’m gonna lose the girls becauZe I can’t get up and clean, and declutter!     What is wrong with me?    Why can’t I keep house like other people?    All I have to do is wash the dishes, put away the laundry, scrub  the cabinets, clean out the fridge, declutter, keep the living room picked up, and sweep.    Would it kill you to do even half of that??     Every day??   For the rest of my life?   Other people do it!!  Every day!    You are so laZy!    Get up right now and do something, anything!      But I can’t!!     It’s just too much!!

And so the monster monkey wins today.

 

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