I had already received the New Year's Eve email from The Someone informing me that, due to his declining income, my alimony would be less in 2013. Ooookay. Not much of a heads up, but I'm hardly a candidate for foodstamps, so while one part of my brain is Googling shit like, "how to find out if your ex-spouse has an off-shore bank account,"the other is telling me to deal with it. Still, I whittle away hours reading about asset protection trusts and law firm gossip, wondering if it really would be worth it to hire a forensic accountant. No? Yes? No. But then I check my bank balance and find that the auto deposit for my last big fat alimony check for 2012 is one cent. That's right. A penny. My bank account is a trampoline  now. I spend an afternoon on Trulia and Realtor.com house shopping in Dubuque, Iowa. I was born there, I reasoned. Why not die there? That bridge that terrified me as a child? Well.

I might have to move, I tell the man who loves me. Nope--60 miles wasn't far enough, now I'm contemplating two thousand. But it's okay, I continue. I might die. You might die. Anything can happen, I tell him.  I fantasize that he will come visit me, knowing that is nigh unto impossible. I fantasize that I will find a historic house with a view of the Mississippi at a tiny fraction of the cost of living in southern California, that I will reconnect will my long lost cousins, that my mom and I will never eat dinner again without someone else at the table, that daily zillions of  people are  struck by tragedy, and this probably doesn't qualify. But still, here I am in Margaritaville. The house. The birds. The ocean. The air. Space for the daughters to come visit and stay awhile. A kayak on the horizon. Well, there's nothing like the specter of loss to make you love what you've got.

Today the regular alimony amount appeared in my account. At this point, it's still "pending."But hey, it looks like I get to keep the extra penny. A found penny is good luck, right?

photo credit: voices.yahoo.com