My experiment in Fantasia is over. I thought if I wanted it bad enough, I could make it happen. But the fantasy has shattered.
A magic hat without a plan is just a mouse asking for trouble.
Three years ago, I moved out of the house I shared with my ex and never looked back. I started my dream career with a vision of a skyrocketing trip through journalism. I moved into a rent-controlled apartment with the understanding that it was a temporary arrangement, soon to be replaced with hipper digs.
Life as an independent contractor took on a nightmarish hue, as I labored over stories that the community newspaper sometimes chose not to pay for. Moving to a more stable position at a larger paper proved difficult, because I couldn’t chase ambulances at midnight with two young children sleeping at home alone. The water was rising.
Despite my tenuous financial situation, I moved into a condo that I convinced myself I could afford. No more noisy neighbors overhead! A garage to house my car and crates full of…not sure! Keeping up with the Joneses! Did I mention the community hot tub?
I believed that the money was under my control. It would do what I told it to do, because I was wearing the magic hat. Pay the rent! Cover the car payment! Shell out the credit card balance! Gym membership – hell yeah!
Funny how a magic hat can turn a formerly frugal stay-at-home mom into an irresponsible luxury-craving fool.
Weaker women have been known to spring for fancy furniture. Or shop for thigh-high boots and mini skirts. Or buy plane tickets to visit their best friend. When that money is gone, all the magic hats in the world can’t bring it back.
The job went under first – I couldn’t stand the insecurity. I fell back on my teaching credential, and when I found there were no openings for teachers I took a job as a teaching assistant. The money wasn’t any better than the newspaper job, but at least it was stable and offered benefits. And kept my head above the water.
The rent for the condo forced me to try living on a $50-a-week grocery budget for the three of us. Try, and fail. I love a challenge as much as the next person, but how many boxes of mac and cheese can one family eat?
Although it felt like a step backwards, I filled out an application for the rent-controlled apartments. And was put on a waiting list with all the other drowning mice. I was literally months away from running out of money. The buckets of bills kept coming.
I was watching my son grapple with a girl bigger than him at jiu-jitsu class when I received a call from an unfamiliar number. The rent-controlled apartment manager offered me a place for $500-a-month less than I was paying. Even a magic hat can’t beat that deal.
And this time, back is a step in the right direction.
