I flipped open my checkbook and looked at the last balance. Almost $70. Good. I could get my hair done, and I’d still have enough for coffee for the week.

Mike had overdrawn his account, so after lunch and meeting with the bank accountant to straighten things out, we went to his sister’s salon to attempt to look human again. (Well, I already looked human and just needed a trim and some color. He had a beard fit for a grizzly and wanted to shape up his cut. Secretly, I hoped he would clean up the beard, too.) Britt brought us back to life in just a couple of hours, and I felt so good that I practically skipped out of the salon. Who cared that I desperately needed sleep? Not me.

Later that night I begged Mike to take me to Kmart — sorry, Target — so that I could get a beach chair and noodle (one of those foam floaty things) for a beach trip I had planned with my family the next day. Kmart had plenty of noodles, but just one beach chair. It didn’t recline or anything, and I wasn’t going to settle when what I really wanted was one of those chairs you could actually lie down in. So I asked Mike to take me across the street to Walmart.

By the time we got to Walmart, Mike could barely walk because I beat him into taking me to Walmart his back hurt so bad. I felt awful and kept trying to get him to sit down while I hunted for the beach chairs, but he’s just as stubborn as I am and wouldn’t listen. We ended up in the garden section looking at reclining beach chairs. These at least reclined, but in all of my fatigue I was about as cranky as a nap-withdrawn two-year-old and insisted on scouring the store for a damn unfolding-lay-down beach chair (because my vocabulary is awesome, too)!

Somewhere between the garden section and somewhere else in the store, I stopped and covered my face with my hands. I had spent about six or seven bucks at Stop & Shop on Garnier color safe shampoo and conditioner. I had spent somewhere around eleven bucks at Kmart on the noodle, some cookies, and something else that I still have no recollection of. I saw little colored numbers spinning around me in that store aisle, and then they all nosedived right on my head.

“What’s wrong? Dizzy?” Mike put a hand on my back to steady me.

“No,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I think I overdrew my account.” Had I really made fun of him for overdrawing his account just a few hours ago? Maybe I was the star of some sick reality TV show. We left the store and I called my sister to have her look at my checkbook. I did the math and slumped in defeat. How could I let this happen? Being tired was just not an excuse.

Mike stopped at a red light. “Do you want to go deposit some money into your account?”

“What money?” I had my head down on the dashboard.

“Maybe from your business or savings account?” He started driving again. “Do you want to stop at the ATM?”

I tried to climb through the sludge that my brain had become. What he was saying didn’t make any sense. “Would you mind?”

We drove to an ATM from our bank and I took some money out of my business account. As I started filling out a deposit envelope, the screen froze.

TEMPORARILY OUT OF SERVICE.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” TEMPORARILY OUT OF SERVICE. “No,” I said. TEMPORARILY OUT OF SERVICE. “Do you hate me? You’ve got to be kidding me!” I turned and pointed, staring at Mike through the glass windows. He stared back at me. “Do you see this? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

I hung my head in defeat and looked down at the money in my hands and the half filled out envelope. As I started to shove everything back into my purse, the screen came back to life.

“Gotcha,” it seemed to say. “Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.”

I composed myself and deposited the money, wondering if I was just crazy or if someone had a bad sense of humor. As I climbed back into the RAV4, I asked Mike if he’d seen the out of service notice.

“Yeah,” he said.

“The weird thing is,” I said, “is that my balance read something totally different from my checkbook. So obviously something didn’t come out yet, so I didn’t technically overdraw — yet. So as long as nothing else comes out tonight, I should be okay. Right? Right.”

I went home and left my stupid noodle on the porch. I crawled into bed and tried to look forward to the beach the next day, even though it meant getting up early and still not getting enough sleep.

I dragged myself through the next morning, but once I got to the beach it felt totally worth it. I didn’t have a beach chair, but at least I could float on the waves with my noodle and soak up the sun. I deserved it, dammit.

“Is that your noodle?” My baby cousin Kat asked. She was wrapped in a towel and shivering; the water was a little cold that early.

“Yes it is,” I told her.

“Can I play with it?”

“Yes, as soon as you warm up a little more, I will take you in and we’ll play with the noodle.”

She beamed up at me, and I grinned right back.

An hour or so later, she was ready to go back into the water. “Can we play with your noodle now?”

I held her hand and led her into the water. We got to her thighs and I put the noodle down, still holding onto her. “Ready?” I lifted her up and tried to sit her on the noodle. She didn’t quite weigh enough. “Wanna ride it like a horsey instead?” She nodded and I sat her down straddling the noodle. She grinned and giggled as she rode the “horsey” through the water, just like I had when I was a little kid. Suddenly the night before was totally worth it.

“Excuse me,” said someone from the shore.

I looked up to see the lifeguard on duty standing with her hands on her hips. “Yes?” I giggled at Kat continued to bounce as she floated.

“You can’t have noodles in the water.”

Welcome to the beach.