Once upon a time, we got a big payout from somewhere. I don't remember where it came from, but it was our money in one lump sum; and as we tend to do in such cases, we paid all our bills, fixed some stuff, and upgraded our computer and our Media wall. You know, new TV, new DVD player, and (for the first time) a home theater system. We were hanging out with another couple at the time; they saw (and HEARD) our system, then apparently went out to RentaPlace and got one for their own living room. They had to return it six months later because they couldn't afford it.

I have never understood this "keeping up with the Joneses" thing. Maybe because I grew up with less money; maybe because my parents grew up poor -- but the emphasis in my family wasn't on what other people had. People who can't stand to wear what's in their closet because one of the "in" people dissed it or showed up wearing something else -- they baffle me. I do have to admit, though, that I might be immune to this because I could never actually go do it. But some people go bankrupt with this kind of stuff -- they can't actually do it without mortgaging their lives to the hilts, but they don't care.

It might be fear of Mrs. Grundy. Who is Mrs. Grundy? You don't hear much about her nowadays; but my parents grew up in mortal fear of her, and taught that fear to me. Mrs. Grundy is that neighbor that has nothing better to do than watch what's going on in the neighborhood, pass judgment on it, and then communicate it to all the neighbors. Before the internet and the paparazzi, she knew all and told all to anyone that would listen. You'd catch her gossiping over fences, contributing to party-line gossip calls (that's a historical reference, gang; if you don't get it, don't worry about it), or whispering to her friends in the grocery store as someone walks by. She's the personification of the opinion of society; the symbol of negative whuffie, if you will. (Did I spell that right? Pulling out Cory Doctorow's Down and out in the Magic Kingdom -- available free online, by the way, as well as in dead tree, and highly recommended . . . whad'ya know? I did!)

I'd always hated Mrs. Grundy, and could care less about the Joneses. They could take care of themselves. When I made the decision to just be me and to heck with this "normalcy crud," I didn't even think about the implications of telling Mrs. Grundy to go fly a kite (to put it politely). My decision included Mrs. Grundy by default; and I've never looked back. And anyways, Mrs. Grundy is no longer the all-powerful force she used to be. With the current economic goings-on, maybe the Joneses will fall by the wayside too. And that would not be a bad thing. If everybody did their own thing, kept themselves happy within their own world and their own budget, we'd all be a lot better off.

And that's the truth. Pfffbhbhft!

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