I’ve cut back a lot over the past few years–I haven’t bought myself any new clothes since 2006 (luckily my teenage daughter and I are the same size and I take her fairly nice rejects), I wear shoes literally coming apart at the seams (is this really necessary? I really could buy some new ones but can’t bring myself to fork over the $100+), I ride my bike as much as possible, I switched to Skype for long distance, I changed my cell phone plan to a pay-as-you-go plan and don’t go anywhere, I shower in the dark to save electricity, I hang my laundry to dry, etc, etc (notice many of these money saving strategies are also green). I even put my cat on a diet, but he attacked my ankles more than usual so I have allowed (enabled?) him to balloon out again to unhealthy proportions.

I went so far as to sell my blood in the Spring. Well, I didn’t really sell my blood, but I took part in a research study at Stanford in exchange for $75 and as part of the deal, a lab tech withdrew a few vials of the stuff from my arm. I see this as a symbolic gesture in my ongoing quest to becoming a financially independent woman. (I still have a way to go.) I take part in my third research study next Sunday at Stanford. This time, I’ll have a brain scan. (Did I mention I’m a bit of a masochist? That’s a result of being raised Catholic. We love to suffer.) I draw the line at drug testing. I’m not so desperate that I will ever become a human guinea pig.

Now I’m thinking about doing something drastic–getting a roommate. My daughter is away at boarding school (on a partial scholarship but it’s still not cheap) and I have extra space here–I don’t own a lot of stuff. (My goal in life is to own as little as possible, not including books.) A friend and neighbor of mine is in the painful process of leaving her husband (not fun but necessary) and she wants to live close by. So I told her she should move in here. I think it’s a good idea–we separated/divorced mothers need to stick together.

In tough times, pooling our resources with others makes sense. (In good times, it makes sense.) We didn’t used to live like this–with every little dysfunctional family unit living in its own cookie cutter house–kind of like solitary confinement for the bourgeois–cut off from contact with and support from other human beings. It’s messed up. No wonder half the country is on antidepressants.