I live for comfort. I admit it. I’m not ashamed of it. I grew up in sometimes grim circumstances and have memories of days when a bowl of beans was something to be extremely grateful for because I had already known times when I didn’t have that much. I spent a week once without food and it wasn’t by choice. I’ve lived in drafty shacks with a wood stove and no running water. Every time I heard or read someone saying they wanted to “go back to the land” or “off the grid” or “live like the pioneers” I knew they had never been there. I have, and it’s not comfortable, easy, or satisfying.
I’ve had relatives tell me I’m “livin’ above my raisin'”, a quaint southern saying about acting like you’re better than they are. My sisters and I agree, durn right we’re living above our raising. I’ve worked since I was five or so and I’m tired. Most of my jobs in my life involved long, long hours and often very hard work. I’m retired now with a pension I can live on and time to do what I want, which is be creative.
As the economy gets worse, the expenses go up, but I have the choice of how to deal with them, and so far I’m doing fine. I have two books published and I’m working on my third. I have two teeshirts designed and for sale now. I’m not freaking out about how fast or slow they are selling. I have enough to live on and be comfortable, and the rest is just gravy.
It took me a long time to get here. I worked and worked and worked, trying to reach that point that is so difficult for the poor, that feeling that I finally had enough money. I never did. What I reached was the point of exhaustion. When the breast cancer forced me to take almost five months off, I did almost nothing but sleep. I went back to work and did sixty hours the first week back, still not heeding my body. If the chemo had not messed with my brain making it difficult to do my job, I would probably be working still and would probably be working till they dragged me out, still trying to reach that point of feeling I had enough money.
Now I have been retired for two years and would rather cut back on expenses than get another job. I am finally doing what I want to do and am loving it. My creativity is brimming over and it is very comfortable, especially when I can sit at my computer in my pajamas with a big cup of coffee as I write this. My sister that I share a mortgage with is at work this morning, trying to earn more overtime. She hopes to be back in time to watch the Superbowl.
Me, I’m going to meander around the house, fix some breakfast, sip some more coffee, and slowly get ready for church. Life is good.