My Kind of Luck

I just added a little more to the story.

Things are suddenly going too well.  I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.  With bad luck on some kind of furlough, the stress that was plaguing me for more than a year seems to be vacationing elsewhere as well.  My hair is not falling out any longer, but that extra weight around my waist seems to be magically melting.  

Just three weeks ago, I had to my name $32,000 in credit card debt, when I made far less in a yearly salary at my hourly-wage job.  Every single time a purchase or expense would arise, the debt I had already accumulated would seem to laugh at me from a warped face I would  also see in my nightmares.  I had begun to hate the credit card companies for giving me so much credit, when I did not make nearly enough to afford such a high spending limit.  I vowed that if I could ever get out of my predicament, I would never allow anything like this to take over my life again and cause me to return to pure misery and self-doubt.

For the first time in my life, I might be experiencing mania.  This extreme happiness began when it was least expected in the commencement of the morning.  I was still feeling that fuzziness on the edge of my nerves that seems to caress me when I have not had enough sleep.

Out walking with a flashlight guiding my way, I saw the end of what I thought was a wrinkled aluminum can about three feet off of the dirt road.  Veering from the slightly safer path, I was determined to pick up the can.  My gloved hand met with resistance.  

Next, I reached in the garbage bag for the half arrow found around the archery range. Making jabs at the supposed can, I felt annoyed with how difficult this fraction of a penny was being with me.  This is what had become of me, due to my gullibility and poor choices in the last couple of years.  I was conned into bad deal after bad deal.  Plus, doctor bills had padded my balances due.  I really had not enjoyed any of those medical tests.

Going against my usual environmental tendencies, I pulled at the weed that appeared to top an aluminum can.  There was more struggle.  My whole body was working against the roots holding the can like a stubborn child.

Finally, the ground let go of the weed, and I fell backwards into a sitting position.  Pain shot through my hip, but I hardly noticed, because I was now seeing what had been below the weed for a long time.  Glimpses of more wrinkled metal.  What in the world?

Confused, I could not decipher the images before me.  Had I found a collection of aluminum cans?  That would have been enough to make my morning quest worth the effort, but  there was a spark in my brain that this was something far better.  Back and forth, I dug with the half arrow and the strongest can in my collected assortment. Later, when home with my find, I would realize the object had been slanted in its burial beneath dirt and plant.

Essentially, my discovery was a treasure chest.  The wooden box, covered in a sheet of wrinkled aluminum, was so full of gold coins, I could not lift the box until I began dispersing some of the coins into my pockets.  When the waist of my pants was dropping ridiculously low, I discarded the cans I had collected in the bag, and replaced them with a portion of the coins.

On that fateful morning, I wonder what my expression might have told anyone paying attention to me.   Most of the joggers and walkers I passed seemed not to even see me, though I was limping and felt I stood out like a sore thumb.  At the time, I even thought maybe I was dreaming.  As a child, I dreamed often of finding coins.  Maybe this was simply because my father had holes in his pockets, and in my waking hours, I picked up loose change as I followed him.

However, I will never forget when the white-haired man walking a white ball of fluff spoke in the morning air, “Are you okay?”  I answered that I simply needed a restroom.  When I laughed nervously the man cautioned, “Better not laugh too much!  Be careful!”

When I took just one of the gold coins to a pawn shop, I began to realize I would be able to pay off my credit card debt before the first of the month, when my interest rate was scheduled to change from zero to 18.99 percent.  More importantly, I recognized that by selling and investing more wisely than visiting my corner pawn shop, I was set for life.  I would not need to work any longer.  I could live in a coastal town and write books if I got bored.  

Chapter 2

When my fortune was first introduced to my life, I could finally breathe.  My credit card balances were at zero.  I could finally think.  The words were flowing in my writing like water in a rushing river.  However, I realized that financial freedom came at a price.  If care was not taken, it could be lost again.  I did not quit my job right away.  I had to change my way of thinking about money.  Never again would I rely on convenience checks, ridiculously high credit limits, or loans.  

In my spare time, I kept writing for measly dollar amounts.  I did not buy a new computer like I had in the past.  I kept using one that had lots of  malfunctioning issues.  I vowed I would use it until it was no longer possible.  I got a tremendous amount of attention for a controversial article I wrote that was published on the internet, but it did not make me a tremendous amount of money.

One night, I got home tired from work,realized the article had been published. I read all of the article comments that were responses from complete strangers.  Suddenly, I did not feel safe.  I somewhat regretted having written the piece, especially since it did not seem as though I would not be compensated for the stress and conflict I felt.  

I found out what was on the other side of the mountain of debt.  There were new worries and problems that would jump out at me as though I was walking in a dark town or forest.  I was worried I was losing my mind, or at the very least I was under a great amount of stress that would eventually cause me physical ailments.

Getting out of debt was similar to making "First Chair" in band.  In high school band, I had gained a euphoric high over "First Chair" for a weekend, but when Monday rolled around, I had the stress over keeping my honored spot.  For example, in my head, I would gloat that I did not have a huge credit card balance to repay any longer.  However, even spending large amounts of cash was a dangerous game for someone who had been deep in the red.  I realized the saying about safety in numbers is true, there is safety in numbers of dollars. 

Close calls were no longer a deadline before the initiation of high interest rates, but my reckless part of myself almost escaping rationality.  If I really wanted a love seat, but the store would only sell me one along with a full length sofa, I might run to the bank, since I could get a cash discount.  Then, when I was away from the claws of the salesperson, and not sinking into the welcoming cushions of the love seat I really wanted, I would step back and realize I could live without both of the luxurious pieces of furniture.

In some ways, I wanted to tell people there was hope.  I wanted to tell those in debt that it was possible to get out of the cycle of paying month after month, sometimes week after week and never getting anywhere.  However, I did not think there were too many treasure chests out in dirt fields.  It reminded me of the joke about the minister who called a replacement one Sunday morning saying he was sick.  He actually skipped church to play golf by himself. That was the day  he got his once-in-a-lifetime-hole-in-one.

Author's Note

I am going to continue to add to this story little-by-little.

Reviews

[Marie]

THis is very good, and I feel it should go on.

[E.A. Rubin]

Thank you, Marie. I will think about how I could continue it.