My Great Depression

It’s the fourth Wednesday of the month. All of you on Social Security know what I’m talking about. The eagle landed some time in the wee hours. Now it’s 5:00 am and I’m walking the one mile to the supermarket in a thunderstorm. I have no car.

I have on a knapsack and I’m carrying two plastic Costco bags. For the last nine days, Wells Fargo has shown almost a zero balance. My last purchase required 80 dimes.

And my doggie needs to eat.

Being a life long learner, none of this is lost on me. The wolf is at the door and I can smell his breath.

A paltry but unanticipated iTunes charge can wreak havoc and confusion.

I have fought a $12.00 charge for two hours on the phone. For once in my life, I know exactly where every cent is going.

There is virtually no fat in my fridge, in my bank account, or on me. I have searched for and found loose change in my business clothes, behind the washing machine and under the bed.

What celebrations have ensued.

And I have learned. To anticipate. To appreciate. To cut and cut again. To endure. To shut my mind off and be at peace with my lot in life.

I have concocted amazing dishes from almost nothing. Food combinations only a pothead could think of. Without the pot. 🙂

I can even drink black coffee now.

I am now a brutally savvy shopper. Even purchases under $5.00 require arbitration. I have learned to survive on popcorn and protein powder.

Now, on my way back from the supermarket with two full bags and an overstuffed knapsack, the skies opened to a brutal desert downpour.

It drenched everything. All my food, my clothes, my sneakers and my head. But not my spirits.

I was so wet you could barely make out my grateful tears of joy.

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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