Money is dangerous

I have been on a 5-year plan to get out of debt. I have been working on it for the better part of 25 years. I should be able to accomplish my goal in the future. If nothing else, I help keep the economy working. As they say, someone must do it. I play my role and play it very well.

As I think about years gone by, I remember my father telling me that money burned a hole in my pocket. I never saw the burn hole. I think I was afraid of the fire. I spent my money so quickly that there was no chance of the money kindling and blazing away. No charred britches to have to replace or explain away. I knew I would be in big, big trouble if I played with matches. I figured a burned hole in the pocket would suggest I have played with matches. Hence, a good excuse for spending my money so rapidly.

I have always had the reputation of spending money. It is true. I never was able to go into a store and not see something I just had to have. I walked in with money and walked out with merchandise. Good trade. It became much easier when plastic money was invented. They were called credit cards. Dangerous things, they be. Now those cards come with chips in them. I am not sure how the chips have improved the cards. They still work quite mightily and can facilitate racking up a whole ton of debt. They still do not require a PIN and I think they should. But, that is a blog for another blogsosphere. Back to the chips, they are best in cookies. I like crisp cookies.

Anyway, back to going into a store with money and coming out with merchandise. If only it was still that simple. One no longer must go into a store and exchange money or use that plastic card for merchandise. Nope, it is a jungle out there. The ole Amazon can fix you up quicker than the asp can say river. Even a one-click payment method. Yep, mighty convenient, I must say. And, a whole new level of dangerous.

Yet, as I think about it, I like the old-fashioned way of ridding myself of money. I had to earn it; and I had the money in hand, if only for a short time. If I wanted something special, I had to save. At a dime per week allowance, that meant a few weeks for something big. Of course, a dime back then was a small fortune. By golly, we picked up pennies back then. A nickel could buy a candy bar or, in a few places, a bottle of soda pop. Even at age 14, I could buy a 12 oz. bottle of RC and a Tiptop brownie for a quarter. At seventeen, I could get a two-burger meal at McDonalds and get change back from my dollar. Now, that rascally hamburgler demands a whole lot more; not that I eat at McDonalds, unless I am with the grandkids.

Back to the reason why I started typing in the first place. I have a plan to get out of debt. At the rate I am going it may be that my children get no inheritance. They may wind up with a ton of debt and a bunch of things I just could not leave in the store. I might just leave them a stack of plastic cards, too. On second thought, I am going to suggest they do as I once did: earn their own and spend it before it starts a fire.