We were running.

“I think you should do it,” my best friend said. “You have the rest of your life to make money. You only get to do what you love once.”

We stopped to stretch and cool down.

Later that day, I accepted an offer from an MFA program in creative writing, at a top 50 school. They were going to pay me. In addition to a tuition waiver, I’d be making $12,000 a year to teach freshman English. My professors said it was a pretty sweet deal. “It’ll keep you off the street until you publish your novel,”…

My boss wants to throw a party next week. He wants to invite everyone who’s had their vaccine, no masks required. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. “Can’t we still spread the virus?”

“I don’t think so,” he says. “Nobody’s said anything about that.”

“Um, I’m saying something right now.”

“Well, you can stay home.”

His problem is simple. My boss thinks things are going back to normal. He’s like millions of other people around the world. He’s been ready for this pandemic to end ever since it began, and that’s exactly why it’s still going. …

Back in college, I used to tutor business majors in economics and history. They came to me with an F and left with a C or better. I read their textbooks and spoon fed them the material. The more they learned from me, the more arrogant they got. “I can’t believe you want to be a teacher,” they’d eventually say. “You’re never going to make a living doing this for the rest of your life. Why don’t you major in business? It’s easy.”

They had a point.

A lot of them would go on to land cushy jobs in finance…

There was an eviction notice on my door. I called my landlord.

He didn’t believe I’d been paying my rent. “If you’re so sure, then you can bring me some official bank statements.”

It was hard to sleep that night, and not just because of the freight trains that roared by every hour.

The next morning, I took a personal day from work and canceled my classes. Then I got notarized documents from my bank, proving beyond any doubt that I’d submitted checks to my landlord’s business, and those checks had been deposited. I dug out my original lease agreement…

My father-in-law never had to invest in the stock market. He dabbled. For him, it was more of a hobby than anything. His wealth came from one place — his job. He spent forty years doing the same thing. Eventually, his boss partnered with him to buy some real estate.

He became a landlord.

My in-laws paid off their house ages ago. They recently built an extension, using money they inherited from their parents, who’ve owned hundreds of acres of land since the early 1900s. Whenever they need a little quick cash, they sell some of their timber.

My in-laws…

At first I was afraid — I was petrified. I kept thinking how easy it was to transfer tens of thousands of dollars into an app, to buy something I’d never be able to see or touch, because it only existed in shard imagination. I’d basically used money to buy different money.

Then came the endorphins. I was hooked.

Here’s why:

I was tired of being responsible with my money.

Let’s face it, our culture rewards gamblers. It doesn’t reward talented people who work hard and save their money, not anymore.

People like me are punished and ridiculed. Wall Street pricks laugh at us, because they know we’re always…

She supported him for seven years, including their mortgage payments. It was the kind of place most of us only dreamed of owning — not just because of the size, but also the location. They lived in one of those historic neighborhoods near the university, the same one where I’d worked my butt off as an underpaid teaching assistant. They were always throwing parties full of local politicians and successful authors like them.

Then they broke up.

It was nasty. They’d never officially gotten married, which left them navigating the rocky laws of common law. …

They’re already cracking into their survival buckets.

Yeah, buckets.

A survival bucket is like a KFC bucket, except it lasts for 30 days. You don’t want to think about what it does to your bowels.

That’s what Jean-Michel Connard’s brother resorted to in Texas this week. The survival bucket. He’s been dreaming of civilization falling apart for months now. Turns out, the guy wasn’t even ready for a power outage. He can’t cook anything. He can’t open any of his canned food.

Take a look:

The brother’s brilliant survival plan depended on natural gas and kitchen appliances, including an…