Funny about Money

😀  That’s not a moan of despair. That’s an honest question to His Godship. 

How much longer, dear Lord, am I likely to live? And if Your answer to that is “forever and aye…or at least longer than another two weeks,” then the next question is how much longer am I going to be able to live on my own?

And THAT’S the Biggie. 

I just hate, loathe, and despise congregate living. 

In college, I lived in the dorms at the University of Arizona.

Absolutely miserable, stinking experience. My roommate and I were finally able to escape, with the help of her aunt.

Back in the Day, female students were considered too feeble to care for themselves on their own, so if you were a girl at the UofA and you weren’t living at home, you were REQUIRED to live in the (gawdawful!) dorms. My friend and I persuaded her aunt, who lived in the same town where the university held forth, to tell the campus authorities that we were going to live with her, in her home.

The minute approval of that fake arrangement came down, Roomie and I raced out and rented an apartment.

Best thing either of us did in the whole four years we spent in (un)lovely Tucson.

This is the thing: I LOATHE INSTITUTIONAL LIVING!

See what I mean?

I HATE LIVING IN CONGREGATE HOMES. I DO NOT WANT TO LIVE IN A HIGH-RISE FULL OF OLD FOLKS. 

Or full of any folks at all.

I wanna stay right here in my house, with my dog and my backyard birds and my swimming pool and my yard guy and my cleaning lady until DAMMIT until I die!

And I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request.

But good luck fazing it past the Larger Society.

The Mayo bastards have nullified my driver’s license, for no other reason than my age. This means I have to walk to grocery stores or else hire a cab to get to a grocery store. And that presents a HUGE problem.

First off, I can’t impose on my son to drive me from pillar to post from now until I croak over (which, given the family history, will probably be another five to ten years). So that means I have to hire a driver to get…literally anywhere. This morning — it’s pouring rain just now — I really do need to get down to the supermarket and then across the street from that to the local drugstore and then all the way back up to my house.

Even if it weren’t overcast and raining, this would be a trick, here in my dotage. That’s a long walk. Make it “long walk x 2,” since we’re talkin’ round trip here.

So…the silly-sounding hypothetical question at the top of this post now takes on some significance. Rather dreadful significance…because if I live as long as other nonsmokers in my family, I’m likely to outlive my ability to do things like walk to the grocery store.

The societally planned future for the likes of me is that I will eventually be forced to sell my home and use the proceeds plus my life savings to buy my way into a holding pen for the elderly. There I will live out my days in tedium, eating bad chow out of cans and boxes, keeping my yap shut, and doing what I’m told to do.

That is NOT the way I want to live. And surely it’s not the way I want to wrap up my life.

I do not think it should be unreasonable for an elder to be allowed to live in their own home in their own peace and quiet with their own little dog and their own array of favorite foods.

See what I mean?

Probably not. The meaning is this: to my mind, it would be FAR better for one’s life to end after a reasonable time than to be forced to live for years in miserable conditions. No matter how classy those conditions: miserable is miserable. 

And no! That ain’t how I wanna live.

True enough: For the last few months or couple of years, I may not be able to get by alone. But we don’t KNOW that’s likely to be true. My aunt and great-grandmother lived into their late 90s, in their home and without a babysitter to watch them every minute.

So the question is…how do I maximize the probability of that happening for me, too?  And if it can be made to happen, how do I contrive to live safely in my own home, with my own canine sidekick and my own cooking and my own rocking chair and my own shower and my own washer and dryer and my own….everything???

One of the factors that will allow me to stay here at the Funny Farm much longer than used to be possible is today’s Uber. Plus the freakin’ Internet.

An Uber driver — one of them lives catty-corner across the street — plus a computer connection make it possible to order just about everything you need. Online. Without arguing with some moron on the other end of a phone line. I can get my Ubering neighbor to drop by the supermarket as he’s cruising around, and when he surfaces with a couple bags full of necessities, fork over enough to pay for the goods and give him a decent gratuity. And believe me: THAT guy is worth it!

Another factor, of course, is Amazon. God Bless That Outfit! Seriously: absent fresh groceries, you can order 90% of what you need online, and have it dropped at your front door. And that is HUGE.

So….I think that with a few changes in day-to-day habits, I should be able to extend the time I can stay in my home by months, if not years.