I make a decent amount of money—so much so that I’ve fielded several calls from Unsolved Mysteries looking to reboot the series on the back of the story, ‘why am I so damn broke?’
I’m serious. I’m always very poor and it does not appear to change regardless of incoming income. I had an opportunity to talk with the mom of a son’s friend as she was dropping off her boy. She explained that she only makes 16 an hour and in spite of having 2 kids still manages to own a home and a car. I make more than her, and I have those things, but I don’t feel like I have the kind of money I actually make. It defies logic. The money spins into a black hole and is gone.
This feels like a very American story. At least it feels like a stereotypical American story about disposable income. It is also a story about chasing a life of things and activities when what I really need is the partner I already have. It is a story about wanting and needing and grinding only to realize that none of those things matter or actually make me happy. Instead my happiness was already in hand.
So maybe the best laid plans is to get away from spending so much and get back to the pleasures of home.
Maybe get back to writing while I’m at it.