Weekend America has a nice little topic this week. I submitted a little something to them. It's, can money really buy you happiness?
They want you to tell a story. I told them the story of my car. My grandfather co-signed for me. He has NEVER co-signed for anyone, none of his children, wives/ex-wives/girlfriends/navy buddies...no one. I was honored. Of course, he threatened my very existence if I ever missed a payment. I assured him that would not happen. And it hasn't. And I pay it off next month. He can breathe a sigh of relief. But, that car, it has brought me happiness. It has brought me on three cross country trips, ferried a friend from the path of Hurricane Frances, took me on countless road trips with my best friend. Every dent and ding and scratch on that car tells some story. Yes, there has been some misery associated with this car, I have on occasion gone without groceries or paying the phone bill to make sure that the bill was paid on that car. I did not want my grandfather to lose faith in me. I wanted to show him that I was able to follow through on my obligations. And I did. As of next month, I have fulfilled the financial promise to not screw up his credit and thank goodness.
Heather tells me that whenever he would make out the check for his car insurance payment he would begin going on and on about how, well, you read the story above. She said it was kind of cute and annoying at the same time. I love my grandpa. I think next month I'll be sending him a thank you card. :)
This car, yes, it's just a car, but it has brought me happiness, and I guess by extension, money has brought me happiness.
That's the gist of what I wrote for Weekend America. Maybe they'll be all, "This girl has talent! Let's get her on the air!" and then I'll be all, "Sweet."
Anyways, I just wanted to post *something* that didn't have to do with pizza today.