Credit

I decided that I need a credit card. Right now, if something goes awry with the car, I'm going to have to ride my bike to work. All 10 miles. In 19 degree weather. This is unacceptable.

I'm going to be giving myself a raise at the begining of the year in the form of withholding less money in taxes, but that's not going to do me any good until I stash some money in a savings account.

So, I got one. It was utterly terrifying. Here's how it worked:

I decided that I'd get one of those Capital One cards, because if I didn't, I wouldn't hear the end of it from someone. You know who you are. I figured I'd wait until I got a piece of junk mail from them, which show up on average four times a week. I got one just today.

I opened the mail, it sent me to a web site. I enter the -- what'd they call it? Invitation code? -- the code thingy and the other code thingy. Then I filled out my address, my income, and the fact that I own, rather than rent.

Bam! Ten seconds later, literally, I have a credit card. They said, "Hey, you know, we can give you your credit card number like right now, if you want. You can start overextending yourself financially right this instant!"

I said, "Jeez, no!", and they said, "That's okay. We'll be sending you your potential financial ruin within 7 to 10 days."

The whole thing took less than three minutes. Like I said, terrifying.

What's more, when you add up the whole blizard of junk mail I get, I'm sure I'm being offered tens of thousands of dollars of credit every week.

God, it's no wonder Americans spend 105% of what they earn each year. I'm content living a relatively spartan existence. Bologna sandwiches for lunch, the same TV I've had since 1995, a new pants every six months, which retires whichever of the four pairs of pants I own that's the most worn out. And despite this, and despite the fact that I make pretty good money, I'm still broke all the time.

Then I get these pieces of mail saying, "Live the good life now! You know you want to!" And I do! There's all kinds of things I'd like. For starters, maybe more than four pairs of pants. A tricked out Apple Powerbook. Satellite TV.

It all comes down to four words that too few of us can say: "I can't afford that." I've been been in dire financial straits before, and I don't ever want to be there again. It's nothing like being broke. It's like the difference between having a sniffle and having pneumonia.

So, when this card shows up, I'm going to drive it to the folks' place, give it to my mum and tell her to hide it from me. And meet me at the mechanics with it if anything comes up.

But still. Pray for me. Please, God, pray for me.