I’m going to be land-poor!
For the second time in my life, I’ll be broke for a very good reason. The first time was when I left my effed up marriage, six years ago. (Yes, I’ve been broke way more than twice, but all the other times were for lame reasons.)
Now, I’m getting a house. If not the one I bid on yesterday, than another. I think it’s just fine to go without cable and to carry a Spam sandwich to work every day… if you live in a house.
Sometimes I welcome the thought of being a little broke. It keeps me from forgetting my roots. Which are, as long-time readers know, poor/ghetto/barrio roots. The roots that have made me what I am. Not unlike the sweet potatoes that I enjoy eating baked from time to time…
A couple of my coworkers are land-poor, so I already have good models to follow. I know, for instance, that’s it’s okay to buy really nice furniture, because it’s All For The House, plus you get it on credit with “no payment until the year 2036!!!” At the same time, I’m looking forward to never, ever going out to lunch, unless someone else is paying. I’m looking forward to standing around the water cooler talking about The Bachelor, American Idol, and So You Think You Can Invent a Cooking Show with Midgets because I won’t be able to afford cable and I’ll live in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but watch network TV or eat at Chili’s.
I’m talking about making the transition to middle class, people. I’m talking about the American dream!
Already, I’m afraid of my innocent son accidentally impregnating a fast little blonde girl. Already, I’m trying to decide which is more risky: being agnostic in a suburb full of churchies, or being reborn Catholic in a Protestant world.
Will I be “that poor single mom with the three sweet boys,” or will I be “that standoffish divorcee who’s thankfully too fat to be a threat to anyone’s marriage”?
Will my house be kind of awesome, or very, very awesome?
I think it will be the latter.
I think I need to buy capri pants.
