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Monday, September 13, 2004
it's my own stupid fault.
I am almost never bored, but I am bored right now. This is because I don't feel like I should allow myself to do what I want to do (read Mansfield Park) until I've done what I ought to do (wash dishes and do data entry), and yet I really, really do not want to do the things I ought to do, so I sit here fiddling on the computer and essentially doing nothing. It's as if it doesn't count as wasting time unless I'm enjoying it.
I had an emotional rollercoaster of a day. It's all too complicated and boring to go into in any detail, so I'll summarize it as: I panicked when I thought we might have to move out of this house soon and I realized how un-ready we are financially to do that and how few options were available to us and how much I love this house, even though I hate it. Then I found out, fortunately, that we shouldn't plan on having to move after all, basically because our landlord is either very lazy, very kind, or clinically insane. I'm going with a combination of lazy and kind, because I like the guy. But there has to be an element of insanity as well, I guess, because if you could get a 2000% return on a 30-year-old emotion-free investment with minimal hassle to yourself, wouldn't you? But he won't bother. Thank God for that. I did, however, find out the REAL reason that renting sucks. It's not that you're throwing money away. That's minor compared to the fact that you're at the mercy of a property owner's whims and could be made to move out at any time whether you want to or not. Criminy, it's like I just figured out that I'm living in feudal England, or 19th-century Ireland, or something. [insert "Far and Away" theme music here.]. And what was most upsetting about today was really fully realizing how stupid the mistakes were that T and I made early in our marriage. We built up a ton of consumer debt, and that took so long to pay off (although we finally did pay it off) that by the time we reached the point where we could afford to buy, the market had gone nuts and we couldn't afford it anymore. Five years ago our landlord offered to sell us this house for a hundred thousand dollars (he bought it in the seventies for $14,000, yes, that's 14 with three zeroes). We couldn't do it then because we were still working our butts off to pay off our earlier fiscal frivolity (and, honestly, still being a bit frivolous at the same time). And now there is no way we could afford to buy this house or any other house in California, both because we are determined that I will not work outside the home, and because the California real estate market has taken a few too many hits from the ol' crack pipe. And it's all our own stupid fault for being in debt and not being able to buy when the market was still sane. Damn. Young people take note: Do not heed the siren song of instant gratification from the credit-card goddesses. Unless you happen to be the type of person who likes having lots of things to regret later. In which case go right ahead.
Wow. Didn't I say I wasn't going to go into all that?
All the other sources of stress are still hanging around also*. Which sucks. But they're buried enough that I manage not to think about them until I wake up at three o'clock in the morning and can't get back to sleep.
*except the heat. I think the death knell of summer has been sounded. We're heading for the eighties and I don't think we're going back out of them till May. yay!
The good news, though, is that my life is just so unsinkably cheerful that I still feel happy, in the balance of things. Either I have a deep source of joy that goes beyond circumstances, or I'm happily deluded. I'm going with option A.
