money, money, money...

"I'm a big fan of money. I like it, I use it, I have a little. I keep it in a jar on top of my refrigerator. I'd like to put more in that jar. That's where you come in."

I'm not a big fan of Adam Sandler, but his voice (as Robbie Hart in the Wedding Singer) came to me as I searched - fruitlessly - on Trademe for a replacement iPod for less than $20. (yes, I'm still grieving).

His words also come to me when I'm searching for special deals on holidays/petrol/clothes/music/wine. Anything, really - as long as I'm paying less than I normally would, I'm winning.

Money. That's what I want.

While I can't claim to have ever been poverty-stricken, I'm no stranger to finding my cupboards bare following a poorly-timed over-indulgence with my eftpos card. I've been known to live off carrots or silverbeet for days at a time (for reasons other than my own weird experimentation with vegetarianism) and, despite the fact I have been an 'adult' for some years now, there are still times when paying the bills requires a call to my dear Ma and Pa. Shameful.

I can blame the recession; I blame my non-lucrative career path; I can blame my student loan; I can blame the windowed envelopes that cruelly appear in my letterbox more often than should be considered fair. (note: red wine and chocolate are up there with oxygen and water and therefore do not count as financial burdens).

Burdens aside, I can't help but admit that I have always been - and probably always will be - poor. Even when I was earning a relatively decent wage (working for a certain call centre that shall remain nameless) and paying minimal bills, my bank balance seemed to hover around zero more frequently than not. Whatever it was I needed, I had to have - and then lamented not having more.

These days, I depend on automatic payments to keep my money in a safe place (under the bed does not work). Because, while getting rid of $100 over the counter in Portmans takes but a relatively painfree swipe of an eftpos card, the act of actually transferring a monetary sum from one bank account to another hurts. Don't ask me why - maybe it's something to do with seeing numbers drop before my eyes and not having something tangible (i.e, red wine/chocolate/new hot-off-the-catwalk boots) to replace it.

But if I'm to buy that new iPod (not a Touch, mind - I can't afford that) or visit India's fair shores again, then it's carrots and silverbeet for a few more years yet.

Of course, the cupboard is never bare at mum and dad's...