This morning, as I was sitting in my fauteuil by the window, I watched my daughter tinker with the keys of the cabinet at the far end of the living room. She turned the key several times but didn’t realized she had already unlocked the door. She push and pulled the whole thing, shaking the vase, the jewelry box and all the knick-knacks on top of it, desperately hoping (I assumed) that something will fall. She gave up after a while and wobbled towards the kitchen where my mother was washing the dishes. I could hear her giggle when she opened the cupboard.

The first time I got my period, my mother cut an old t-shirt into several rectangular pieces, piled them on top of each other and sew them on my underwear. I was the only one who knew about it but I was so embarrassed. Why in God’s name must I be made to wear this hideous thing when you can buy disposable ones?

For a kid who’s just about to start high school, the thoughy of my classmates finding out that I’m wearing pasador was terrifying. I could already imagine what they’ll say, especially the girls from the well-off families from town. “That’s so old-fashioned” and “disgusting”. Imagine having to touch all that blood while washing it. So I replaced the pasador with disposable pads.

After giving birth, it took me a while to get my regular period back. But as the amount of soiled diapers piled up (eventhough I’m using environment-friendly ones) , reaching for a piece of disposable sanitary pad gave me an overwhelming sense of guilt.

I‘m living relatively frugal (compared to a year ago) nowadays. I haven’t bought a single article of clothing, bag, or shoes, not even a cup of coffee at the train station since starting my No Spending Challenge in January.

Despite that my savings account is declining every day and I’m expecting it to drain at the end of the month. So where the hell is my money going?

Here’s what my bank account says
:

Ten years ago…

There was me and this guy, sitting on a beach, on a famous island. I’ve known him for two weeks.

There was a bottle of the local vodka. The sunset was romantic. A boat drifts away to the bay carrying two lovers.

I said to him: “I think I’m falling in-love with you.”

Silence.

After a while, he answered. “I thought you never want to be in a serious relationship.”

“Yes, I don’t.”

Silence.

The sun said goodbye, we finished the vodka. I got dead drunk. He dragged me to the tricycle so we could get back to the pension house. I spent the evening spitting on the wall.

The next day we went swimming with the sharks, me with my massive hang-over. There was silence on the boat. I couldn’t stand silence.

So I said, “about last night.”

He answered. “We can try.”

His first “I love you” came many months after. The declaration of real love when we parted for a while.

I married the guy last year.

I could smell spring in the air. It’s 10 degrees, sunny, blue skies and feels like 10-degrees. (In the Netherlands we have this gevoelstemperatuur, which literally translates to “feel temperature”. Depending on the wind, gevoelstemperatuur can be twice of thrice as cold as real temperature). Last week when the ‘beast from the east” passed by, it suddenly felt like -20 degrees in many parts of the country, particularly in Rotterdam where the hard, icy North Sea winds blows like a hurricane on stormy days.

But I am not complaining. Not really, because there was a lot of snow this year. You see, in this part of Europe, winter usually means rain and heavy storms, so when Netherlands become Narnia-land, we frolic  in the snow like people from the tropics.

Every year the Dutch from the North of the country, in Friesland particularly, are wishing for a real winter so that they can hold their ice skating competition (Elfstedentocht). And every year, their hearts get broken because it hardly gets freezing cold here.

But this year was an exception. In early December the first snow storm came and blanketed the whole country in immaculate white powder. It lasted for only two days but nobody minded. There still wasn’t any Elfstedentoch  but many canals froze, and people went crazy skating on natural ice especially in Amsterdam.