hardship

“So you’re living here for the summer?” my neighbors inquire. I nod in assent.

“But where do you live for real?”

I gesture toward the house. “Here.”

“But what do you do?”

“Chicken farming,” I say, matter-of-factly.

It’s seldom possible to say this without a smirk. So I explain: I’m gardening, resting, cooking, enjoying, writing, living.

“But what are you going to do?”

What they really want to know, I think, is what I will do for money. Fortunately, corporate lawyering was lucrative, so I don’t have to worry about money, at least for now. My expenses, owing to a favorable exchange of housing for a modicum of labor, are next to nothing.

I recently called about my student loans, wondering if I could take part in the new Income Based Repayment plan. Among the questions asked of me: Are you actively looking for work?

“Well, no, not really. I work. But I don’t look for work. I’m chicken farming,” I explained to the man on the phone.

“So you’re not looking for work?”

“No. But chicken farming is work. I’m working,” I assured him. “Just not, you know, for money.”

“So you’re not looking for work.” This time he stated it as a fact, not a question.

“I guess not.”

He was tired of this exchange. So was I. He told me I was probably eligible for a deferment owing to financial hardship.

“But I’m not hard up,” I insisted. “I can pay, I was just wondering if I could…”

Ignoring my protestations, he interrupted me and said that I could download the application form online.

“Can you mail it to me instead?”

I should receive it within a week.

I went to the garden and picked green beans, stuffed my pockets with them. In the evening I sat and watched the sunset, emptied my pockets, sipped red wine, crunched on raw beans. This hardly feels like hardship.