the apartment children.

I didn't go to work today, simply because I didn't feel like it. And my job allows me to make this sort of decision in a quick and guilt-free way. And it's summer. And I was tired.

Instead, I slept until 9, read for a little while, and then went with A. to the Med bakery where I joyously consumed an apple croissant and an iced coffee, for less than $5. I figure someday I'll really like coffee, and very soon I'll definitely need coffee, so it's a good idea to start drinking it now. Going out for breakfast is maybe the nicest way to start a Day Off, and A. and I discussed angry mothers and also Harry Potter, which we're going to go see tomorrow night.

Then she went to Oak Park, and I walked back, looked at our messy kitchen, and made the very domestic decision to clean...

When I was in the second grade, I loved the Boxcar Children books. In said books, the four orphaned siblings -Henry, Jessie, Violet and Benny (shocking how effortlessly that just came back) - are homeless and poor until they find this old, abandoned boxcar in the woods. Deciding this would be the perfect place to live, they make literally everything they use from materials they find in the area (sleeping on pine needles, for example) and I think the two older children work doing chores and babysitting in a neighborhood nearby. Then they buy food - mainly bread and milk, if I remember - bring it back to the boxcar, feed everyone, and, I don't know, I forget. They probably do something heartwarming before they go to bed. (Also, they eventually build this kickass swimming hole, but that's really not the point.)

The point is that simple living is in many ways far more attractive than the complicated living the modern adult in a capitalist society is inevitably drawn toward. Having more money usually amounts to having more objects, preferably ugly, hulky, plastic objects, that collect dust and are utterly unnecessary. Just watch the 2-in-the-morning infomercials. Buy a REALLY CONVENIENT can opener for $19.95, and they'll throw in four other ugly, plastic, unnecessary objects for free! ...because you still have some unused closet space.

At home, I was surrounded by Stuff. We weren't rich, but we never got rid of anything either, which meant we had about 5 billion of everything - 5 billion dish towels, 5 billion bathroom towels, 5 billion Tupperware containers, 5 billion magazines. There are so many drawers in my parent's house that you literally can't close, because they're bursting with things that never get used. Why do they keep acquiring? Because they keep making money.

Here in my apartment, we aren't Boxcar Children poor, but we are College Student poor with Chicago-style rent. So that's where the money goes. It's all very simple and practical, and I like it that way. We save most of what is left, and spend the rest on food. Lentils are 89 cents. Pasta and sauce can be less than $2. We buy rice in bulk, and T. brings home unsold French bread everyday from the bakery. When there's too much bread, we put some in the freezer, and let some dry out to use for bread crumbs.

And so I channeled the Boxcar Children today as I rinsed out aluminum cans to recycle, and boiled water on the stove, using a gallon-jug from store-bought tea for newly made iced tea, and washed dishes and dried them.

We turn off the lights and leave unused appliances unplugged and take short showers. I haven't purchased new clothing in half a year, because I have enough clothing. We suffer through heat without air conditioning, old-fashioned style. That way, it feels genuinely hot. It gives me real reason to complain. It makes me appreciate today, which is much cooler. It makes me appreciate, and notice, difference.

I'm so glad I have no television for my mind to be colonized by MTV, I'm so glad I'm sitting in a perfectly good chair that someone else wanted to throw away, and I'm so glad I get to deal with inconvenience.

Having just enough money is wonderful. A really big part of me hopes I'll always be a little bit poor.