We could just about afford our heaters, but we can't afford any electricity to run them. We have a pay-as-you-go electricity meter, which was sold to us as the louche and sexy choice of the modern free spirit, but has turned out to be a weekly obligation.
The whole point about paying bills is that you don't know what anything costs. It's just some unspecified money, paid at unspecified times, for unspecified reasons. With today's modern direct debits, you don't even need to think about how much water costs, or restrict your industrial belt-sanding to off-peak hours.
But with a pay-as-you-go meter, you're forced to notice everything. Each joule has a pound sign next to it, and you can feel British Gas pulling them out of you one-by-one. Like little hairs.
We're going to get a proper meter soon. I promise.
Our situation recently led to this conversation.
Me: We'd better not use the oven. It's too expensive.
Lucy: What will we have for dinner?
Me: We'll have to have an egg. Just one. I'll have the yolk and you can have the white.
Lucy: Why do you get the yolk?
Me: You don't like yolks.
Lucy: I do like yolks! I just don't like runny yolks.
Me: Exactly. We can't afford to cook the egg for long.
That conversation happened a couple of weeks ago. I'm not sure if I remembered it correctly. We were probably exaggerating for the benefit of the other people at the bus stop. The fact that we were getting the bus, rather than walking, suggests that we probably did have the funds for a solid yolk. But still...
I like "But still..."
I use it all the time. It shows that I'm open-minded.
I want to have it tattooed on my knuckles.
B-U-T-S on my right hand.
T-I-L-L on my left.
And then ellipses on my thumbs.
Buts......till
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