Dangerous Credit

When I was in my 20s, I ruined my credit rating several times over. This did not matter to me at the time, as I figured I wouldn't live past 25 or so, and if I did I would never be in a position to buy a house or a car or make any of those major purchases that seem to come with adult life. I figured myself for a scrimp and save ghetto rat for my entire life, doomed to poverty forever.

This has changed. Somehow, when I wasn't looking, it changed.

It used to be I'd get credit card offers. You know the kind: "you give us $200 and then we'll send you a card with a $200 limit, ha ha ha." And even THOSE turned me down.

Then five years ago we took a trip to Boston. We convinced our bank to give us a card with a really small limit, "just for emergencies." And we did pretty well with it. Well enough to get a credit rating that allowed us to refinance our mortgage (my parents bought the house, in case you're wondering). I went to buy some socks at a department store. "Would you like to apply for our card?" the cashier asked. Usually I'd say no, but I thought on a lark, "Why not?" And they GAVE it to me.

This was the beginning. I now have a WHOLE BUNCH of plastic: most of it cards with very small limits. But last week I hit the big time. I had decided to respond to one of those offers I'm always getting in the mail, because the rate was about half that on any of my other cards. I got the card, it came...and the credit limit was.....well, I about fainted. I had originally meant for this card to be used for balance transfers ONLY....but with that credit limit I'm all of a sudden seeing things I've wanted for a long time come within my reach. That Irish Flute. That Martin Guitar. What do I do? I have a hard enough time thinking it's all right for me to own more than one pair of jeans! And now I'm thinking of buying musical instruments because I want them??? When I have a practically new silver flute and a perfectly servicable guitar already? It's the work of the Devil, it is--making you want material things. Therefore, credit cards are agents of the Devil.

Hee Hee. I'll let you know what I buy.