A mile and some south of the currently emplaced cubed rooms is a gas station where the tire-air machine has been broken for months. In the back of it are piled boxes of equipment where a half-ass pizzeria is allegedly coming someday. The boxes haven’t moved the whole time I’ve been here.

The next-nearest commerce of any kind is three times further down the road–not much there either. Any real reason to go out usually is twelve to fourteen miles away from here. Or twenty in the other direction.

The main reason I visit the gas station, as I did today, is that there’s a reverse-osmosis water machine outside. I needed some, and also to get out of the house for a little while.

Getting in the car means having a little dose of random NPR. They were talking about the little interest-rate cut, and the likelihood of more of them soon. That segued into a conversation about mortgage rates, and then to the spike in the number of refi(nancing)s.

I think that might be a slow small way out. Maybe early in the new year.

Drop a little of that ten percent money down to four, and clear off a couple of monthly payments in the process?

It’s no total solution but it might make a little
daylight,
a little dent,
in what’s flowing out.

While I look to amp what’s coming in,
a far more important consideration.