I once lived with 3 brothers, brothers, brothas.  They were siblings.  They were Christians.  They were black.  Brothers, brothers, brothas.  The apartment had a rat that traumatized me to no end.  It took me 3 months to kill it.  The apartment was clean, but the thousands of roaches refused to move.  What possessed me to live at 991 S. Carpenter?  $155/month rent.  I was on a mission.  Here was my plan…

I was in my first year of teaching.  The one thing I had noticed about teachers, is that they’re generally unhappy people.  They’re poor while there is still a sparkle in their eye, but by the time they start making a livable income, they’ve lost the joy of teaching.  They’re stuck working a job that requires the passion they’ve lost.  Too old to find a new career.  Too young to collect a pension.  Not me.  My plan was to retire in five years.  Save every penny, invest wildly in the market, and move on with my life.  Looking back, it was the most jack-assed of all plans.  I rode public transportation.  No car.  For lunch I ate a potato.  For dinner I ate spaghetti.  Sometimes I switched the two.  It was a hell of a plan.  But like all good plans, a woman comes along and changes it.

I did get a couple of things for my troubles.  With my “retirement fund”, I made a sizable down payment on our first house.  And I did learn how to live in abject poverty.  That could come in handy some day.  But I’d really miss sleeping on silk sheets.  And I guess you could say I’m retired.  But that has more to do with marrying “up”.  Maybe her plan was better after all.  I’m not complaining.