broke(n)

It's like this: you're just trying to get by, and you even have a plan to save a little money. It's a good plan. You're on your way.

So, it's a beautiful Saturday. Really exceptional. Spring has arrived in a cheerful, sunshiney, birds-chirping kind of way. Time to open the windows. So, you look for the screens. And you discover: window screens in the crawl space (hurrah!). And a sputtering leak in the plumbing (oh).

Surprise!

So, you call the plumber. Easy fix. All set. "Did you know you have a second leak?"

Hmmm.

Only this leak is not so easy. This one requires a 3x3 hole carved out of your (freshly painted) bedroom wall. The leak is fixed. The hole remains. "Did you know that you need a new water heater?"

Yes. But not today.

So, you send the plumber on his way and thank him for coming out on a Saturday. You even feel a twinge of pride for taking care of your first home repair. All by yourself.

Except for the fact that tonight, you're folding laundry quietly, when the washer exudes a horrendous screech mid-cycle. It's a dying sort of sound.

And now your washer refuses to restart, and your clothes are sitting in gray water looking soggy and depressed. You picture yourself at a laundromat cranking quarters into a washer. Folding your underwear in front of strangers. Reading a magazine to pass the time.

So, you make the call. You prepare yourself to write another check. And even though you love your little house, in the back of your mind, you think: sigh. So this is why people rent.