But I Don’t Want to be Poor

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Are we going to be poor, Momma? Can we get rid of the cats?

I was talking to one of my secret pals this evening, and he told me he’d been reading my blog about my efforts in falling apart. He said it seemed I was asking all of the right questions, so he wasn’t going to interrupt. He reminded me of the stories that my grandparents used to tell about how they survived the great depression. I also remember watching it on the Waltons. In hindsight, the great depression seems like a great skill-builder. I guess everybody fell on hard times, and they made it somehow. I’m a little worried since I can’t even grow houseplants. I’ll be screwed if something like that happens, but I guess I would probably come through in a pinch. After all, Scarlet managed to sell herself out to save her beloved Tara. I suppose I could figure out a way to grow some organic food and raise chickens. I know I could live off veggie omelets.

I’ve actually been considering a future career change that might require a huge cut in salary. I have to say that the thought of giving up my Athleta clothing habit long-term is very depressing, but I’ve had to throw away my catalogs for the last 6-8 months, and I seem to have survived quite well. Luckily, the quality is awesome, so the stuff I already own made it through a second summer season without being any worse for the wear. Actually, my budget cuts of the last six months have taught me that I can live a lot more frugally if I really want to. I’ve learned to love lentils and rice and even quit reloading my starbucks card. My fingernails and toenails are naked, and I’ve learned to live on 4GBs of data in a month. I think my dog is eating more expensive food than I am. But, I don’t feel deprived. The jury is still out on doing it long-term though.

Today, I filled out an application at Trader Joe’s. I didn’t actually bring it over there. I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I want to give up some of my weekend time. I’m considering a second job just to save some extra cash and maybe finish paying off the last of my bills a little quicker. I love Trader Joe’s, and I think it would be fun to work there. Another perk is that I’d be working for a small wage instead of having too much free time and spending money. I could also take on some contract work and have called several of my training and development friends to see if they can push some projects my way. Or I’d love to find a little writing job. Seems there are lots of ways to make a buck. I asked my friend if middle-aged hookers had a market out there. I suppose that’s always an option and doesn’t require much schooling. I may have to buy some new clothes, but I guess I could write it off as a business expense.

I remember reading something about foreclosures at the height of the economic recession that recently ended – if it really ended. Memphis was one of the worst cities hit, I think. The story I read said that people who lost their jobs couldn’t pay their mortgage so they’d just stop paying it. Some people lived in their homes for 3 years or more before the foreclosure process ever got started. There was not enough manpower to handle them all. So, I guess if the worst happens and ISIS takes over the world, we all get Ebola or the health care system crashes our economy, there’ll be so much turmoil that I won’t be first in line. I probably should start hoarding some seeds or take some classes on chicken farming just in case. My Mother doesn’t have any portiers, and I don’t have the stomach to go marry somebody with money. In fact, I was reading an article about women in foreclosure, and this attorney said the most common reason women foreclose is because some partner screwed them over financially. Nice.

I told my friend that if the world goes to hell in a handbasket, I guess there will be plenty of us suffering. “Thank you for calling Hell, your ultimate destination for all things horrible. Unfortunately, all of our friendly helpers are busy helping other victims. Your call is important to us. Please continue to hold. Your approximate wait time is somewhere between 42 and 45 years. Please be warned that your call will be answered in the order in which it was received. Hanging up will result in losing your place in line,” he replied.

Good night, John Boy.

Good night, Mary Ellen.

Good night, Ashok.

Good night, Bella.

Good night, Buster.

2 thoughts on “But I Don’t Want to be Poor

  1. Funny you should write about these type of life changes. I’ve thought about quitting my job and wait tables. I wouldn’t have to see the same people every single day of my life. I am currently dismayed with the behavior of people, and I don’t care to associate with half of the people I know.

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