The power of pennilessness

Earlier this week, Rick and I refinanced our mortgage (to a sweet 3 percent) and one of the conditions of the deal was that I close all my credit card accounts except one. This was quite agreeable to me, as I have far too many credit cards and use them far too freely, almost as though charging something made it free. But I had misunderstood which of the credit cards the bank was allowing me to keep and, days before the closing, I had paid off and closed that account myself. Which meant that, as of Monday, I had NO credit cards and – my payday being almost two weeks away – no money, except a little spare change. So, unless I hit up my husband for cash, I had no way to fill my gas tank to get to work, no way to take advantage of that incredible laptop offer I saw on craigslist, no way to purchase airplane tickets for a holiday trip to Michigan, no way to go out to dinner with the girls, no way to do anything except – outrageous thought – live within my means. I decided to try to do exactly that. I am still sitting with the feelings this condition generates. Rebellion. A sickly kind of panic. Some childish anger. Fear (don’t a lot of us worry we are destined to be bag ladies?). And, grudgingly, liberation. The tire of my Honda had a nail in it and this afternoon, I took it to my mechanic to be repaired. The bill was $10. I didn’t have $10. I wrote a post-dated check. And I couldn’t help but think, this is how so many people in the world live, hand-to-mouth, paycheck to paycheck – but also so much better than many people in the world live. At least I have that paycheck coming next week. At least I have someone who would readily help me if I asked. I’m still trying to decide if I will even apply for another credit card later. Perhaps absurdly, the image of a backpacker comes to mind. Though I have only backpacked once, I love the metaphor of it – carrying everything one needs on one’s own back. Maybe, finally, I can learn to do that with money.