Po' Folk

I'm poor. Not by normal standards, but by New York standards. I can't afford more than $800 in rent. I've lived with $600 rent for a year now and haven't saved any money. Thanks to my long stint of unemployment, I actually accrued some debt.

Part of this, admittedly, is due to consumerism, but most of it is just plain fact. I'm poor. I've actually always been poor. I could have been not-poor in New Orleans, but I chose to support someone else. I could have been not-poor in college, but I chose to go away to school instead of staying close to home. I guess I could be not-poor now and stay in the apartment I can more-than-afford for $600 instead of moving somewhere where I pay $800.

My apartment is okay. It's not fabulous, but when I think about the hovel I lived in when I was in Lefferts it's pretty great. I mean, at least my room is big, the super is nice, and sure I have roommates, but if I choose to not see them I really don't have to. Big room. Private entrance. Roof access. Two very happy cats who get plenty of exercise running up and down the big hallway.

Yes, the kitchen being next to my room drives me batshit. And Heartwarmer is a loud chewer and doesn't clean dishes properly. Yes, nobody EVER wants to come out here. Yes, I got mugged last year. Yes, I HATE carpeting with an extraordinary, glorious passion. And I am nervous about finding a new roommate to live with us, and I hate the expensive cab rides home and I hate that I can never seem to get my room organized no matter how many organizational tools I acquire and I hate the loud people who moved in downstairs.

But it's home. For $600 a month.