1.

A vet bill. Our cat was on the deck and started hacking and gagging in great distress, so we rushed her to the emergency vet. It cost us $650 dollar to find out she swallowed a cicada. We think she did it on purpose. We have a theory that our cats are little malignant narcissists that keep track of how much we spend on them, and if it doesn’t reach their target expenditure per annum, they trigger events that cause us to monetarily prove our love to them. On the way home from the vet I swear she burped and then laughed at us.

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2.

A treadmill for my husband. It’s a nice one, with a footbed that changes angle to simulate the ups and downs of the virtual hikes available with the treadmill software, such as visiting an ancient temple in the jungles of Vietnam or strolling through the streets of Paris. My husband almost immediately injured his Achilles tendon on a hike through the Himalayas. I assume he was searching for Shangri-La because our house is not paradise. Also, the treadmill is in our walk-out basement where the ceiling is lower than in the rest of the house. Taking steep mountain-climbing virtual hikes can occasionally make the footbed raise up high enough that a tall person can whack their head on the ceiling if they’re not paying attention. (Although ducking the ceiling to avoid a concussion could be thought of as fitness training. I think the Navy SEALs use this technique.*)

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3.

A pair of black leather platform shoes with 6-inch heels, which I can only wear while lying down because I can’t walk in them, and several ten-dollars-per-square-inch-of-material sexy outfits to go with them, for a certain anniversary that ended in zero. Husband says this was not a stupid transaction. I told him I’ll put the shoes back on and see if he can change my mind about the ROI of this purchase, but he says that first he has to finish a story he’s writing. This makes me think of a twist on that Hemingway six-word-story legend. For sale: sexy shoes, never worn. (Okay, I admit I wore them and it was fun, but writing humor allows for poetic license. Don’t judge me.)

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4.

Any of a number of trips to garden centers every spring to buy stuff that we hope will grow around our house. Our small yard is shady because it is surrounded by trees on public property, which the HOA won’t let us trim until their branches are long enough to reach into our windows and slap us around like the trees in The Wizard of Oz. One year, we surreptitiously trimmed some limbs on a Monday morning when most of the neighbors were at work. We put a small vegetable bed in the backyard and filled our deck (the only really sunny spot) with tiered shelving to hold hot pepper and tomato plants. This was an obvious signal to the stinkbugs to come live at our house. Luckily, stinkbugs are too small for the cats to choke on. At the end of the season, we figured out our average cost was approximately $39 per pepper, including the ones the stinkbugs ate. (But which I assume made the little buggers nice and spicy as cat hors d’oeuvres. You’re welcome, kitties. I hope you included the appetizers in your owner expenditures assessment.)

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5.

Two large pieces of bullet-resistant polycarbonate for an art project. (Polycarbonate is used to make bulletproof windows, in case you were wondering.) I’ve done some weird art projects over the years. No, I didn’t need the polycarbonate to be bullet-resistant. Some company was just trying to get rid of it, and it happened to be bullet-resistant, and I wanted large clear pieces of strong material. If there is a bullet-resistant polycarbonate buyer’s watch list, I’m probably on it. I started writing a book soon after I began that project, and it turns out writing a book takes a lot of time, work, and attention. Even though I’ve finished that book and started another one, I haven’t gotten back to the glass mosaic fountain mounted on polycarbonate that I had planned. (I’m sure the stinkbugs would love it.) The polycarbonate is presently living behind a bookcase. But, I’m ready for the coming imaginary civil war where the electorate rebels against stupid stuff like the IRS looking at every bank transaction over $600. I’m untouchable. I’ve got bullet-resistant polycarbonate.

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*Okay, I admit I totally made that up in the hope that someone who wants to train like they think SEALs do will read this article and offer to buy our treadmill. Free gag-on-demand cat and/or bullet-resistant polycarbonate included with treadmill purchase.