Becoming Homeless: a "How To" Guide

Now that we are all just a few paychecks away from homelessness (incidentally, we always have been, but we didn't need to worry about it then because we had jobs and retirement plans), we should review our options and think about what we can expect when the bank forecloses on our mortgages and we are faced with sleeping in the car.

First, if you aren't yet homeless (and you will be in a while, so don't stop reading), try to sell your house immediately. This won't work, of course, because no one is buying right now. Also, you will probably have to drop the price so low that you may not even be able to cover the mortgage you still owe on it. But hey, it's worth a try. If you do manage to break even, then you own nothing, sure; but you owe nothing, either.  That would be a plus right now.

Second, you really don't want to be acting out at work right now. It would not be a good time to lose your job; when you become homeless, you really will need money for gas and food. And a membership at the local Y or a gym. Don't ask if you can sleep on a friend's floor: no one wants to associate with homeless people, after all. It reminds them that they could soon be there themselves.

As for me, I"m all set. I'm retiring, so I don't have a job to worry about. I could live in the tree fort (pictured above: it's a platform, really), I suppose, but probably the car will better suit my preppie lifestyle. I'll need to reopen my membership at the YMCA, so I can shower there. Put all my furniture in storage, and swap out a few clothes every few days from the storage shed. Luckily, there will be enough room in my car (it's an old RAV 4) for me, the two dogs, and the cat. The fish are out of luck, though. I guess I'll have to put them in the river. . .

Don't wear clothes that need to be ironed. T-shirts and jeans will do for the evenings, and if you are still working, make sure that you look smart when you come out of the gym or the local Y -- no one wants to be around folks who look as if they slept in a car, remember. Have your hair cut in a simple style that needs no fuss or primping. Try to look elegant, not desperate. Eat sensibly, too: the old stand-by of peanut butter and crackers has never been so useful. Include fruit and some vegetables -- raw, if need be -- to ensure a balanced diet. Don't be tempted by fast food: shop carefully at the local grocery store, and you can find daily bargains -- as long as you buy nothing that needs refrigeration.

Coffee shops are great places to hang out, surf the web, and look elegant, as long as you can make your coffee last.  No one wants to see a tousled, frumpy homeless person at the coffee shop, so be sure to brush your hair and teeth before you get there.  And smile.  No one ever thinks you could be homeless if you're smiling.

Apparently there are parking lots in California now that are designated "women only" from 7:00pm-7:00am every night.  Look for a parking lot that allows RV's and campers to park overnight, or team up with a bunch of similarly homeless friends to set up your own "enclave."  Try to park under street lamps (sure, it makes sleeping more difficult, but it's more secure).  Do not carry money with you, or other valuables.  Pay for everything you can by debit card, and keep that card tucked away somewhere safely on your person at all times. 

Of course, if someone were to buy my house now, it would be at a ridiculously low price for property on the river where I live. Not enough to buy another house. So I'm thinking that the best financial investment at the moment might be in land. Forget stocks and shares, they are imaginary portions of the invisible dependent on the whims of the "market forces" run by speculators. When you become homeless (in the next month or two), if you have any money at all to do so, do what I'm going to do and buy a few acres of land. And dammit, even a mule. At least the land will still be there when/if the economy recovers (don't buy on the coast, though, just in case it takes a few years). Park your car on it, or plant a garden on it, or pitch a tent. You'll be one of the lucky ones and (hopefully), so will I.