I was born to be a millionaire. I’ve always suspected it, but this news story from a couple of months ago nails it down once and for all. It seems a socio-economist named Randall Bell surveyed a bunch of rich-ees and then wrote a book called Me We Do Be about how nearly all of them share certain habits. Well, guess what? ME TOO! Check this out:
They make their beds: OMG! Every morning I wake up and make the bed the minute my feet hit the floor. If I take long enough doing it, David will have the litter boxes scooped and the dishwasher emptied before I’m finished. Not sure about the we part, but this is a sho-nuff win for ME!
They wave to their neighbors: Yep, that’s me, every day, waving to my neighbors all around, especially the ones that clearly don’t want me to. After all, it is Florida, which is not exactly the affable “Hey, how are you?” capital of the world, if you were wondering. I can’t even put into words the pleasure I derive from forcing anti-social/rude people either to acknowledge me or pull out all the stops trying to avoid it. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched folks in flip-flops fake emergency shoe-tie moves to keep from looking up!
They keep their cool, even around bad drivers: I never scream out the window and flip the bird at the person behind me at the light who honks the horn two seconds before it even turns green. (I usually do just one of those two things at a time. No need to overkill.). Ditto for the person who holds up my left turn because he doesn’t know how to use that little stick that could have made his right turn light go blinkee-blinkee. Why? I guess you could say I’m just too zen for my own good. You could say that, but it’s really because I’m 99.9% sure that everyone down here is both batshit crazy and packing heat, and I’m not about to get capped by some stand-your-grounder before I even get to try Halo Top’s next new flavor. (That stuff is like five-dollar crack that’s good for you! Get you some. Namaste, y’all.)
They don’t smoke: Not only do I personally avoid smoking, but I also give deadly side eye and say special emphysema prayers against each and every smoker that I encounter. That’s right. I’m something even better than a non-smoker; I’m a non-smoker who embodies good Christian values.
They pick up trash: If you sit in your convertible outside Publix eating rotisserie chicken and tossing the bones out the window (yes, I HAVE actually watched a woman do this), I can’t be responsible if “someone” tosses a few back in when you go back into the store to buy some Wet Wipes or something. Just sayin’.
And speaking of things that get left on the ground, I’m a vehement supporter of the new TS group that some of my neighbors are apparently forming. This recently appeared on our community’s social media site.
What’s that? Hell, yes, this is for real. Remember the F-word: Florida.
Okay, so I think it’s pretty clear that I’m a productive people person full of positive energy. A good citizen who’s emotionally intelligent, disciplined, and wary of any nasty habits that might interfere with my wealth-building potential. No job is beneath me; I do what it takes to get the job done. Which leaves me with just one question:
Where’s my damned million dollars, Randall?!?!?