Being Poor

You know, when I first started real estate, I didn’t mind being poor. I never had any money, but it was okay. I went to the office every day and fulfilled that basic need to socialize with other humans that we all need from time to time.
Now I’m afraid I’m going nuts. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the next Jack Nicholson in that Stephen King movie which name I can’t remember because pregnancy has made me stupid. Redrum… that’s the only thing I can think of.
Well, there’s a very good starting point. Pregnancy stupidity. I have become COMPLETELY brainless, or at least darn near it. Half the time I can’t even TALK, let alone process thoughts, remember things, or perform basic tasks. I spent a good half hour the other day debating what I should set the oven to when baking potatoes.
I’m losing it.
My mom keeps saying that the baby is going to be really smart, since it’s taking all my brains.
Then there’s the seclusion. It’s winter. There’s snow. My road is essentially an ice skating rink with a few pointy pieces of gravel sticking through. AND I WORK FROM HOME. I never see people. I never talk to people other than to talk business. I HAVE NO LIFE. I need out… I need something to do.
However, the problem here is that doing something requires money, which is something I do not have. It is the beginning of March, and the “good market” is around the corner, but I really am limited until I start selling a few things again. The expense of working for RE/MAX really has become outrageous due to the merger, etc. I miss working in Mora… but where to go? Nearly everybody else is hurting just as much, and I need to find a brokerage that is cheaper… Ug.
Every once and a while I do venture over to my parent’s house, where I proceed to tell them everything that has happened to me every second since I last talked to them. Unfortunately for them, this has got to be horrendously boring. And I can’t seem to shut up.
I believe that in just a short matter of time, I will be holding entire conversations with my cats, and honestly believe that they are responding. I think I have already developed an almost unhealthy addiction to my cats, spending all my time with them. Sadly, I believe even they think I’m insane.
Nick suggested that I start writing to occupy some time. It would probably help me feel like I’m “socializing”, telling stories. Yet I can’t seem to convince myself that it’s worth it. I know I should… and I’m in shock over how many people lately informed me that my BLOG (real estate one) showed enough talent for me to be published.
Yeah, right. I don’t believe it.
OMG I really want some curly fries. Mmmmm….
Tomorrow is my ultrasound, provided I’m feeling okay. I hurt all day yesterday, and then woke up this morning coughing and feeling like death. Am praying for a quick painless death, though. Am very excited, but am going to have to pick some generic thing to call the baby that does not give away it’s gender to Nick. How the hell am I going to hide that for 20 weeks?
The Witnesses just came to the house. They are ALWAYS stopping here. Between them and the Mormon missionaries checking on us, I feel like I must be fully and appropriately clothed at all times. Right now I’m running around in a tank top and boxers – not exactly the most appealing way to answer the door. “Please save me from my clothing blunders, and while you’re at it, did I mention that I’m pregnant and not married? Yes, definitely a hopeless case.” So I just hid under the electric blanket until they went away. I will read their literature shortly. Maybe it will feel like socializing!
Can you imagine? Poor, socially deprived Joslyn answers the door in boxers and a tank top, and invites the two guys in, where she proceeds to tell them everything about pregnancy, real estate, her life, her imminent death by cold, and in the meantime moves the electric heater closer to them. “I’m sorry that it’s so cold in here, but like everyone else in Kanabec County, I can’t afford to fill my propane tank. This helps so I feel warmer than the 55 degrees that it really is in here.”
Curly fries and a Snickers bar. Mmmm…
OMG, what I really love is talking to people about propane. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard “It’s so expensive this year. We turned our thermostat down to (68, 70, 65, 72…) because we’re trying to save money. Can you believe how cold we have to keep our house?” I grin, wanting to scream “TRY 55 DEGREES, YOU BITCH! CAN I MOVE IN WITH YOU?”
It does make for a cozy home sometimes, though. I turn on the electric heater in the bedroom and all the cats line up along the edge of the bed in front of the heater. Even now I don’t have the heater running, but there are two cats hiding under the electric blanket with me.
Anyway, I have to go call an asset manager now. If she gets lucky, she won’t have to listen to my entire life story…

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