Precarity

That's it; that's the word I have been looking for, the one that describes what it's like to live on constant watch, always careful, always on alert. I saw it this week in an article that (to summarise) points out how much more often it is women who end up with little pension and living hand-to-mouth.

Most images of "teetering" seem to be of men. Ok.

Generally, my risk-taking is actually well-thought-out and meticulously planned. What I didn't count on was the joy of Long Covid (and to be honest, I didn't expect my previous job to be a complete dumpster fire that I needed to escape).

I was telling a friend yesterday that my game plan was to be debt free on this flat in seven years. But as I did the mental sums, I realised that if nothing changes, I will get there in around four. This assumes no large spends. Then I remembered that I actually have three possible game plans in the making - the "renovate and upsize" plan; the "buy a camper and AirBnB my place" plan, and the "buy a second property" plan. The nice thing about precarity is that since I can't afford to move on any of them, I don't have to choose which one I go forward with. The annoying part is feeling like you are well-and-truly stuck in one spot, and barely moving on the debt treadmill.

And so you default to the only real plan you can move on. The one where you pay bills, buy unbranded food, hope that nothing unexpected happens, and repeat again next month. Fortunately, if something unexpected does happen for me, well, meh, I'll just sigh a bit and add another year to the debt repayments. Not everyone has that flexibility.

Another friend once said that their parents had lived so close to the bone all their lives, they retired not knowing how to spend money.

I think that will be me. First world problems, eh?

Good thing: my flowers are starting to look lovely 😀 Cheap thrills!