Money is in short supply at my house these days, thanks mostly to a string of financial calamities, the like of which I cannot recall. I have been making some extra money by selling unwanted and unneeded items, like a canoe, two old trucks and a 44-magnum lever-action rifle with a scope. However, the in-flows, though significant, seem like drops of rain on an endless sea. After the week I had again last week, my pockets are completely devoid of even the memory of money.

For instance, I found out early this spring that I need a new furnace. I had already gotten one estimate for $1,200 earlier this year. That's not bad, if not for one problem — I still don't have $1,200. Then I went back and talked to the installer and found out yesterday that it is actually going to cost me $1,400. That's alright, $1,400 is just another amount of money I can't come up with. Even so, with inflation like that, I better try to come up with $1,600.

I was feeling concerned about coming up with that amount of money, until I found out that my gas tank is also too small and I need a larger one, at a cost of about $150 installation, not to mention filling it up with gas. The company told me I might save a few bucks if I go ahead and dig them a trench for the gas line 12-inches deep and about 20 feet long. In the words of Yogi Berra, it was like déjà vu all over again.

Anyway, I decided to go out and ponder life's mysteries as I mowed my lawn. It was at least 80 and the acre or so of yard left me drenched in sweat. I happened to see a friend later that day who told me about a bargain in a riding mower that was only slightly used at the hardware store. With the memories of rigorous mowing fresh in mind and a potential bargain in hand, I agreed to buy it.

That very evening, after a couple of weeks waiting, I finally heard back from my mechanic on the truck. He tells me that I need a new unit in my rear-end. That was just about enough to elicit a chuckle, coming from a mechanic. He told me the clutches were out and I also needed some brake shoes, while he was at it. Oh, and by the way, my gas tank is also leaking. Anyway, the estimated cost of fixing the truck just came in at somewhere around $800. When I talked to him yesterday, he told me that the part was lost in transit and had to be over-nighted. He is going to try and get the company to pay for it. If not, I will have to foot the bill or wait another week or two. By now, I am starting to feel nausea every time the phone rings.

I still haven't gotten a bill from the fellow who helped me fix my driveway with his tractor. I figure that might be a few more hundreds to try and come up with.

The next day, I decided to go and visit one of my friends. He was busy getting ready to go to work when I pulled up in my car, which, thankfully, hasn't had any problems since it was repaired. If you recall, I just got finished paying a $500 deductible on the insurance for it after I decided to run over Bambi. I just have gotten that paid back so my checking account was finally back on the positive side. That won't be lasting long.

"Those tires look worn on the edge there," he said, bending down to run his fingers over the tread. "Turn the wheel to the side and let's take a look-see.' Just to humor him, I did. I knew my tires couldn't be bad, since they only had about 14,000 miles on them. That should only be half the life of a good tire.

After turning the wheel, I went back out in front of the car and, much to my chagrin, noticed the tell-tale stripe of baldness, near wire, on the inside edge. My tires were gonners.

I stopped by to see my friendly neighborhood tire store. "Those particular tires are pretty high. They aren't the most expensive, but they aren't the cheapest, either. Let me check on the price."

After talking on the phone and then punching numbers on the calculator for about three or four minutes, he comes back out with a register tape and a serious look. "You really need those two front ones replaced and they cost about $90 each, installed," he told me. Take my money, please.

By now, this sixth-grade mathematical genius figures that he will probably be broke for the rest of his life. It truly is amazing to watch money vanish as if it were sucked in by a particularly vicious undertow.

I have always heard people say, "When it rains, it pours." I might consider scuba gear, if I could afford it. Perhaps an ark would be better.

I went to see my old pal the banker to try and get all this worked out. After asking for my blood type, third cousin's maiden name, favorite color, driver's license number, age, sex, phone number, address and how much my television is worth, the documents came out of the printer — neat little papers of numbers and letters hardly recognizable as the story of my life. It was like an unauthorized biography, complete with all the sordid details of financial misadventure.

The best thing I could do was refinance a loan that I have on my property and try to drop the interest rate while at least that still looks good. I might be able to trim a couple percentage points. If all goes well, I will owe them payments for a number of years and then have to pay a balloon payment to finish off the loan. It is always something when you are dealing with bankers. I just wonder what they want with all those balloons?

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