As the saying goes, old habits die hard.
I woke up this morning, treating the last day of the month like any other.
I made sure the bills money had been paid in, and was ready to move over to the joint account. Paid off the balance of my credit card – used mainly for travel, food and hotel expenses when working away.
Then I moved funds in to another account, which I reserve for day-to-day living. You know. That monthly wine order I post up on Instagram. Or for when the coffee bean count is running low. Even the occasional, but pre-approved splurge. Nothing too dramatic. The cost of living; of socialising.
Then I laughed. That kind of futile laughter I seem to do a lot these days.
What am I moving money about for? Where am I going to go to spend it? Will the credit card company contact me or my next of kin to check all is well.
With travel to work reduced to the steps it takes to walk down the stairs. With coffee roasters and wine sellers all but shut. The movement of money was nothing more than a habit. One, this lockdown has so far, failed to break.
Who knows what will happen if we are still here next month?