My mother’s been in town for a little while and we’ve done some marvelous things to my house. She left this morning 😦 and as I raced around returning some things so my credit card statement wouldn’t knock me into a wall and grab my throat while sucking my will to live; I thought a lot about money and all its glory.
Unless you’ve been under a rock or you so stinking rich it doesn’t matter, you’ve probably been affected by our economy. The fear it brings out in people is understandable, the hate, not so much. I guess someone or something has to be the outlet for all this anger and loathing. The targets people choose are quite interesting, if not misdirected and disgusting, but that is another post entirely.
My relationship to money waffles between complete and total denial and the urge to call a Chapter 13 attorney, tell Bank of America where to go, and move into a teepee on a piece of land growing my own vegetables. It’s a weird and complicated object — currency. The only thing it appears to buy is freedom and piece of mind. But does it really? The more stuff we have the more we have to worry about losing. It never seems to be enough. I mean, I’m sure the Bill Gates and Warren Buffet’s in this world don’t worry about putting food on the table — but I’m sure their minds can’t be completely at ease. That amount of money must come with its own share of worry. “Dammit honey, some dude in Mexico is now number 1.” Personally, I would be fearful for my children. But who knows…I guess that is something I probably won’t or don’t need to worry about. Whew.
I need to start playing the lottery so I understand how the “other side” stresses, plus I would love to be too big to fail. Coming back to reality, I always think of the one thing that pretty much sums up my relationship with the green stuff. It’s Bernadette Peter’s line in The Jerk; “I don’t care about losing all the money. It’s losing all the stuuufffff.”