According to the spreadsheet, I'm a poor, worthless piece of humanity, can't even afford the piss, let alone the pot or the shotgun shack to put the pot in.

But in spirit and in life, I'm pretty damn rich. 

I have the best friends and family a person could want without having to bribe them(sometimes I make them ham sandwiches, if the door greeter at the store isn't on her top game and I can run real fast out the door with the ham and bread!).

I'm pretty damn rich in the body and spirit, sometimes the mind, matters which day of the week.

I'm lucky in the material world too, I have a roof over my head, food in the belly, my life has been reduced to a butt load of stuff stored in the in-laws' garages.

You discover you're a pat rack, even when you don't think you are, when things happen in life's journey.

I discovered years ago I'm a pat rack and I married one and basically, well, just about everyone is.  'Out of vision, out of mind!' aka, wow, where did all this stuff come from?

The car has been sold.  I've donated millions of pounds of clothes of the wifey's and mine as well.  Stuff we had in the storage lockers after we moved from the house to the apartment, sitting in garbage sacks.

I figured if I wasn't using them, someone else could.  My clothes were donated to a house for men who are just getting out of prison, trying to restart their life, my old shirts were like gold to them along with tons of shampoo and such I found in our bathroom.

Most of Pam's I donated to a house with the same goal except for women along with some more shampoo and such.

Shampoo and such seems to reproduce quickly, even happens with my sis in law and grammy!

"I thought we needed shampoo! There's like four bottles in here and another four on the shelf!"

We think we're doing bad with a cut on our foot, a bang to our head, a little dizzy, maybe stumbling, but then we meet a person who lost their feet, their legs, their body, and we discover, we are pretty damn lucky to be where we are, alive.

I of course, keep forgetting this, and yes, I end up in states of depression, hiding in a dark room, not thinking I'm pretty lucky to have a dark room to hide in, I could be that guy in Las Vegas with the sign, "KICK ME IN THE NUTS FOR A DONATION!"

I have survived another day on the Planet Dirtball, one more day I can add to the belt, take another breath, and try to remember how lucky I am.

Money doesn't solve some problems. Helps, yes, I admit, for some but well, try buying back a lost loved one back from the grave.......