About eleven years ago, when I was a florist, some very dear friends pestered me to get a REAL job. You know, the kind with holidays and benefits and the like. Button shirts, ties, shoes that hurt my feet and clothes that require ironing really are not my style - but I did as they had pressured me and got a real job. And as much as I may have resented that (a little) in the back of my mind, if I had not, we would not be doing what we're doing today. So thank you my dear, dear friends for that - because . . .
We close today on a few acres of wooded land near artsy-fartsy Berkley Springs, W.V. After closing, we're going to the property and do a happy dance. This is to be our final homestead. Our Camelot. Our walk-around-naked-and-pee-in-the-yard place. So, now more than ever before, it's the first day of the rest of our lives.
I have another friend who has access to a goodly amount of money, which he fritters away on entertainment. He looks at me and Mike and with befuddlement because we have much, much less, yet we're happy. And, actually, I feel that we are much better off--No savings, no retirement, no job, but we have each other.
How do you measure your quality of life?
As we walk through this day, increasing our financial burden (even more) in pursuit of the American dream, we're content. We joke about having to cultivate a taste for cat food later in life. (So if we start nibbling a little now...?)
No comments:
Post a Comment