I've worked hard all my life. Nothing really special about that, a lot of people work hard, especially people in poor Third World Nations. I can't even imagine what they have to do just to survive every day. As poor as we are we're well-off in comparison. They wish that they lived like a poor person in a First World Nation.
But having said that, it still sucks. I remember Christmases where my girls would have 30 presents under the tree. Eat out twice a week. Get stuff on a weekly basis. Eat delivered food sometimes three times a week. If I wanted something like a new futon I could just go out and buy it. It's called being reasonably comfortable. Not rich...not well-off...but comfortable...comfortable to me anyways...and debt free.
Then the shit hit the fan...and for the last 5-6 years it's been one struggle after another. Trying to stay afloat. Keep the wolves from the door. Whatever other cliché you want to throw in there.
And the strange thing about this is I've been working the entire time. Yep, I'm the quintessential example of the working poor. The under-paid, over-worked, stiff, just barely making ends meet. One waiting disaster away from homelessness.
The only saving grace about the last few years has been I've managed to avoid debt. Only because I'm old school, if I can't pay cash...I don't buy it.
Got a few irons in the fire, nothing great, but enough to get me out of the shit-hole situation I'm in, enough to breath, but it's not coming fast enough. But it's a light...a hope...
who else here is struggling? Fox
