Homer’s story, Part 2

When I think of not having the money, I get terrified. It’s a really undefined terror. I guess I’m afraid that I would just moulder away in drudgery, like some character in a Russian novel. I also feel inadequate; I don’t know if I could even do a job. I almost think that this very issue is something to be grateful for. I have the time to struggle with it, whereas I don’t think I could experience my confusion if I was having to be consumed by the workaday world. But I am still waiting for that wonderful whatever-it-is I am saving myself for to come along. I wish I could just let the money give me opportunities. And gosh, I wish I could remove the greed and the fear that it won’t be there, that there won’t be enough, or that I’ll be taken advantage of.