I sell my house (you can tell this is a fantasy), clear about 100K. (a HUGE fantasy). I have about 100K in retirement savings (yeah, the stock market hasn’t crashed again). Now what to plan?
I go to a financial planner but he laughs so hard I have to kill him.
I search rural land for sale and can only afford a piece of land in the small town of You Can’t Get There From Here. What the hell, I buy it . We decide to build a shelter and raise some food.
We get a Quonset hut. Who cares if the floor is dirt? There are bugs in the finest houses.
We get some chickens; soon they’ll lay eggs. Oops, have to get a rooster. We get a rooster. He squawks so much my husband throws a boot at him and kills him. I make chicken soup. We say the feathers are garnish.
The Quonset hut leaks. But the roof is 18 feet high, so it’s hard to get up there to fix it. We’re hoping a giant piece of hail gets stuck in the hole. Finally we take some of what’s left of our savings and get a carpenter to build up the inside of the Quonset hut. His buddy the electrician and his other buddy the plumber help out. Now we have a home. It’s a bit ugly, but it’s warm and since the carpenter fixed the roof, it’s dry.
It’s different, but what baby boomer isn’t? The ugly house has low taxes, we eat the chickens, and my husband brought home a pregnant alpaca the other day. We get by on social security, and my husband says we can sell alpaca wool.
And somehow this gets out to other baby boomers, and they come to see, then some come to stay because they’re broke too and we have a nice life, and pretty soon You Can’t Get There From Here has a small thriving community. I hear one guy’s going to start a micro brewery and I’m happy.