Our family has been tightening our belts for the last few years, in an attempt to get out of debt from a failed business. Apartment living has been an interesting venture, but very effective when it comes to managing our budget. My husband is still grieving the loss of his garage. I miss the good ol' days when I had 50 pairs of stinky shoes piled in the entryway and pizza boxes under the couch; a sign of a successful night of fun at the Bentons.
I also hate that I can hear the person upstairs every morning. Clear as a bell. Erm, you know, going tinkle. Yep, the same time every morning. Disgusting but true.
But apartment living isn't all bad. One of the greatest things about living in an apartment is the simplicity. I cannot stand to have any extra stuff laying around. If we don't use it or wear it or eat it, it goes straight to the trash, Goodwill or to storage. I can clean my apartment in less than 10 minutes, no joke.
So speaking of tightening belts, my husband has lost a ton of weight. Like 35 pounds. Awesome. Anyway, he left his belt over at a friend's house last month. And instead of taking the time to drive across town and get his belt, he made one. Out of blue rope. Yep. My husband walked around Medford for more than a week using a blue rope to keep his sagging pants up. Sexay.
Well, yesterday I went outside to go to work and my back passenger door on Bessie was open. Bessie is an old white cutlass with red velvet seats that is part of our 'getting out of debt' plan. I could not get her door to shut. I pleaded with her. I threw a little tantrum. I got pitty (code word for sweaty) and my hands  covered in grease trying to pry open this metal thing in the door so it would shut.  I even tried to just drive with it open but...obviously I have a few corners I have to turn on my way to work. So, I decided I would have to tie it shut somehow.
I raced back into the apartment and frantically looked for something to tie the door shut with. A rope? A bungee cord? Yarn? String? Nope. Nada. Curses! A belt? Ahhhhh......
I dug through my husband's laundry basket and fetched out his hillbilly belt. I tied it to the door handle and realized it was too short to tie off the other end. So, I held it.
That's right. I drove 15 minutes to work on I-5 holding my door shut with a blue rope. Now that's funny.
I'm sure there's a lesson in here somewhere. Maybe it's about creativity, or living within our means or accepting the fact that you're mechanically challenged. Or maybe it's just a funny look at the stuff we have to do to get through our day sometimes. Pride goes out the window and we're forced to, in the words of Tim Gunn "just make it work." So we do. And sometimes, those things make the best stories.


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