Most people watch Hansel and Gretel and think that it’s a cautionary tale about gluttony. I read it and see an idea.
I pay too much for housing. I pay too much for school. I pay too much for a campus hamburger that I am going to still be paying off well into my fifties. Between jobs, school, and the grueling 20-hour Buzzsaw cage match, it’s hard to stay afloat. Campus apartments are dingy and way too expensive, and our walls shake every Thursday-Sunday from the parties our upstairs neighbors host. I am haunted by the sounds of “Sicko Mode” and someone vomiting up a grapefruit White Claw.
If I built myself a gingerbread house in the woods, I wouldn’t have to hire construction workers or crews, and I would get to use a comically large bag of icing. It’s a win-win. If I ever get sick of the way my house looks, I can just scrape off the gumdrops and sugar and re-design. Plus, my house will always smell sweet and feel festive. I can cozy up by the fire and bake cookies and watch movies and while away the hours as the snow falls outside. And yes—gingerbread is well insulated. As far as costs go, this is a one-time buy, so I can start investing my money into fun things like a Costco membership.
Now I know what you’re thinking….how would you be able to keep those pesky children from eating my home? You’re not going to cook them in your fireplace and eat them, right?
Well, I am not going to rule out my options. Food is expensive too, you know. I am a strong believer in property rights, and I will defend my land at all costs. Sure, I may have bought an oversized crockpot and some very sharp knives—but that is just for my seasonal soups. It’s not like I’m going to put a sign outside my house that says “Free Gingerbread” to lure people into my trap, though I could probably hand out some pamphlets at the local elementary school.
At the end of the day, I am just pragmatic and thrifty. I am ready to accept the whimsy of my new sweet lifestyle—and whatever challenges come with it. Who knows? Maybe I will turn my home into a bakery or a cafe. Or maybe I will just enjoy it for what it is, free from the stresses of the economy and the pain of capitalism.
Or maybe I will just stay in my crappy college apartment.
Your Editor who is in the throes of a sugar high,