Cheap but Not Easy

The first night in our new home was special in so many ways. How did it feel to close and lock the door behind us after so many months of not knowing in what state or what city we would end up, always wondering if -and when- we would have a place to call home again? Feeling unsettled for so long, always worrying if we could keep our dogs and if we could stay together. Being at home again, felt like nothing I had experienced before. When you regain something that was lost and could have been lost for a very long time, it’s a feeling of humbled victory.

You feel strong because you have seen and felt your weaknesses. You feel on top of the world while realizing the abyss is only a step away -always. As a couple, this was our happiest night in all the years we have been together. The special night we had fought and worked for, had dreamed of, and wished on. Alone again, behind closed doors, the harsh reality outside waiting for us, yet inside we felt safe and whole -again. We had paid rent for one month and had twenty-seven days to come up with next month’s rent, so we could stay in our new home. No pay – No stay! How could I ever forget?

Now alone, we walked through the rooms, opened the back door wide, and let some air in. We were determined not to look at all the empty space around us, but of course, we did. I called the woman who had been willing to meet us and our dogs and let her know we weren’t looking for a rental anymore. Then finally I called our friend, who had been worried about us all day long. We chatted for a while, then we wished each other a Happy Easter, and hang up. She would get the next update on Monday evening after my husband had met with the company that had promised to hire him.

“We are not rich by what we possess but by what we can do without.”
― Immanuel Kant

Our dogs run in and out, like nervous chickens. All was new. They felt insecure, made sure we wouldn’t leave without them, but the backyard and all the shrubs and bushes won in the end and they started exploring. We filled their dog bowls with food and water and consumed the rest of our sandwiches, filled paper cups with faucet water -which we disliked instantly. After our dinner, I unpacked the kitchen box -all of it fit into one cabinet. What we didn’t have became quickly obvious. There was not much left, other than clothes, tools to make work “work” and a mountain of invisible dreams, and hopes we should have filled into bottles for sale. I placed my cookbooks on the counter, right beside the coffeemaker.

We rolled the old office chair into the living room and placed it in front of the air mattress, so only one of us had to sit on the bed, the other one could use the chair, or we both could use the chair as a table.

After dinner, we went outside with our dogs, checked the fence line ourselves, made sure there was nothing lying around that could hurt them. After sitting all day long in the car, it felt good to walk a bit. We were holding hands, smiled at each other. The pressure we had felt for so many weeks went away.

We were exhausted and went to bed early. To my surprise, we both slept very well and much longer than usual. I woke up first and when I turned around on my stomach, I peeked through the blinds and looked outside into the yard. The heater came on, I could feel the warm air coming through the vents.

I tried to sneak out of bed, which is an impossible task on an air mattress. I got ready for the day, started the coffee, and put our laptop on the desk. We didn’t have internet. I tried to find a connection nearby, saw that many neighbors were online or had a router, sadly all of it was password-protected, and I couldn’t use it. Steve had shown me how to find an internet connection, now I just needed to find the one neighbor who was careless -or trusting- so I could go online.

Later on, we had coffee and made plans for the day. The freezer was full, the fridge was empty. We needed to go shopping, and we had to find the cheapest stores around us. We had $650 left, and we hoped we could make it last for a while.

In boarding school, they had taught us to cook for a family on a tight budget. My grandma had shared with me all her “poor man’s dishes” she had learned to cook during World War II and afterward. Old recipes, handed down by generations in Austria, Italy, and all over Europe -all cooked and enjoyed by families who had little.

I had the knowledge to make it work but had never been in a position when I had to use it. The leftover rules. Don’t serve leftovers, make a new meal out of it. So much came to my mind.

Plan meals for one or two weeks ahead and buy in bulk! Write the prices down in the stores, compare the stores. Use coupons, especially double coupons, and find out which shop has a clearance aisle. Buy old bread, warm it up at home. Make your own bread. Serve meatless dishes. Get creative!

Not in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever serve my grandma’s mustard eggs for dinner, yet I did and it was good.

We made a list of what we needed until Monday, not knowing for sure if my husband would have a job or not, we needed to play it safe. Monday, we would finally know if our gamble would pay off.

I got Italian sausages out of the freezer, wrote on the list what I needed to make spaghetti with meat sauce for dinner that night, and a fantasy casserole the next day. We needed bread, something to drink, stuff to clean the house. The windows and floors were dirty. Perhaps eggs for breakfast. We didn’t have a toaster, but I would learn to roast our bread in the wok. A few snacks, maybe bananas, a broom, and a dustpan.

We put the clothes we had worn the day before on the dog beds, thought our sent would help the dogs to stay calm in the new home and we left to explore the surrounding areas in the neighborhood.

With no internet connection, I thought I would walk around and fill applications out in all the stores I could reach by foot, and there were plenty. A few fast-food stores, a place that sold honey ham, a Walgreens, a Steinmart, and all the little shops in the strip mall not too far from our home. A few restaurants, two gas stations.

We stopped at all of them and I asked if I could fill out an application, but nobody was hiring at the moment. I left my information anyway, just in case. It didn’t take long, and I felt totally discouraged and frustrated and I am sure my husband felt the same way, but we didn’t share our concerns, instead, we both pretended to be in a good mood -to not worry the other one. The silliness of love! Why do we do that? We know what the one we love feels, yet we keep pretending.

We found a few grocery stores, went in, checked out the prices. There was a Safe-a-lot close to our home, and it looked promising. They had a large clearance aisle and a 1-Dollar aisle that made my heart beat faster.

A brief stop at home to check on the dogs, and then we went back on the road, this time in the opposite direction. Our GPS system showed my husband’s new workplace was only six miles away -it wouldn’t take much of gas to go back and forth to work. Perhaps we could find a bus route, for the time when we couldn’t drive our truck anymore.

On our way back home we made a bit of detour, got to see more of our direct neighborhood. The more we saw, the more we liked it. My husband stopped at a Walgreens and got us some water. When he came back to the car, he handed me a single rose. It was such a sweet gesture; it made my heart overflow with love. The man who doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body, my spouse who doesn’t like candlelight dinners, because he can’t see his food, bought me a rose. We couldn’t afford it, but then, if a small rose breaks the bank, you most likely are broke, anyway. I held it like my prized possession because it was.

We continued exploring and then right there and then out of nowhere, I saw something I hadn’t seen in a very long time. “AAAALLLLLDDDDDIIIIII” I shouted. “Stop the car. It’s an Aldi.” I got so excited I couldn’t wait to get out of the truck.

“What’s an Aldi?” my husband wanted to know. “You’ll see.” I still couldn’t believe my eyes. I had shopped at Aldi in Germany and Austria since I was a little girl. Years later, I went to boarding school with a member of the Albrecht family, the owners of Aldi North and South in Germany. I know Aldi’s history by heart, know how it began and why they are so cheap. What was Aldi doing in the U.S.? And would it still be like the stores in Europe, or would I find an Americanized version?

When we walked in, I could see the disappointment on my husband’s face. “This is an ugly store,” he said, and I smiled big. “Yes, it is!” Bingo! It was a regular Aldi. Boxes and cartons were everywhere, smaller ones on old metal shelves, larger ones on the floor. It was a cheap-looking store, nothing fancy for the eye but heaven for the wallet.

“Please, get a cart,” I asked him and pointed outside. He came back telling me they wanted money for the cart. “Just put a quarter in. You get it back when you put the cart back where it belongs,” I explained to him. He thought it was silly. “Who does such a thing?” But he came back with a shopping cart.

His disapproval of the store showed in the face he made. I said little, turned around, and started shopping. Two yogurts for 19 cents each, bananas for a dollar, tomato paste for 20 cents, diced tomatoes for 39 cents, cheese for 99 cents. My husband’s eyes got bigger and bigger when he saw the prices.

We bought bread and eggs, tomato paste, apples, oranges, onions, diced tomatoes, spaghetti, shredded cheese, milk, cheap marmalade, a few cans I needed for cooking, lettuce, oil and vinegar, ketchup and mustard, and some other things, even a few snacks. We paid $35 and left the store with two large brown paper bags full of food that would last us for a few days.

I had remembered my grandmother’s rule. Cook cheap, but make sure you have fresh fruits and fresh vegetables.

We made another stop at a dollar store, bought a cheap mop, a can opener, a corkscrew, cleaning supplies, broom and dustpan, and paper towels. Plain necessities and another $25 exchanged hands.

Back at home, I started cooking and a short time later, we balanced the dinner plates on our knees and enjoyed spaghetti Bolognese with a small bowl of salad.

“The best spaghetti I have ever eaten,” my husband said after dinner. It would become his standard sentence after every meal for a very long time. He knew and always acknowledge the fact that I tried hard to cook sumptuous and healthful meals with lots of tricks.

People say it’s expensive to eat healthy meals but that’s not true, it’s not if you shop, prepare and cook right. It is very time-consuming to plan the meals for a week or two, but worth the effort. I don’t think we ever ate healthier than we did back then in 2010 when we had to stretch every dollar as far as we could.

On Easter Sunday, I heated water on the stove so we could wash our hair and take another horse bath in the sink. I bend my head, so I could rinse my hair and I woke up on the floor a few seconds later. I had blackened out, found myself pinned between the closed bathroom door and the sink in front of me. Like an imploded building I had caved in. Surprisingly, I didn’t hit my head when I fell. I wasn’t bleeding and I had no injuries. One second I was standing over the sink, the next I sat on the cold floor.

For the first time in my life, I had passed out for a few seconds and nothing could have frightened me more. My knees were shaking, and I felt afraid of something I had no words or explanation for. I didn’t feel dizzy; I didn’t feel sick, still, I had lost consciousness.

It brought on another panic attack. Breathing hard, shaking like a leaf, I left the bathroom, walked down the hallway, with one hand touching the wall like it had an invisible railing. I sat down on the mattress and shared with my husband what had happened. He looked as scared as I felt.

“Do you need me to call 9-1-1? he asked, and I shook my head.

“What for?” We could barely afford to live, we surely couldn’t afford to be sick. He asked me all kinds of questions. I had no answer.

We were no longer homeless. I needed to stay healthy!

Life writes the best stories and I happen to have lived a few -not always by choice. Our ‘story’ writes itself and it gives me the joy (and a bit of pain) of reliving some of it. So much seemed clearer now, so much doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

The category “Losing it all” is from start to finish the time in our lives between November 2009 to probably March 2012 or 2013. I will leave a few things out but not much.

Thank you for reading!