“Being poor,” he said to absolutely nobody, “is really, really annoying”

This was getting insane. Akiva rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Maybe if his eyes weren’t so dry, the text on the paper would make more sense. He stopped rubbing and looked down.

Nope.

How was this possible? Seven grand? His second house flip was generating him a profit of a mere seven thousand? The numbers had added up to at least 50 when he’d done the math.

You always gotta do the math. That’s what his house flip crash course had taught him. And he had!

Except that he was dealing with a crazy person here. Big Larry wasn’t even eccentric, he was just plain nuts. He was also in foreclosure. And had just declared bankruptcy. And by the time Akiva was finished dealing with his attorneys, he didn’t even want the crazy man’s house anymore. But Larry had begged him to take it.

And then, when he tried to sell it, he discovered that the comps weren’t what he’d thought they were, and the offers he’d gotten had been dismal.

But hey, at least he hadn’t lost money on it.

A sad silver lining, if he’d ever heard one. And he was disappointed — he’d had this crazy dream of showing up in Cancun for second days, surprising everyone and proving all the naysayers wrong.

Apparently, though, what he’d be able to afford was a medium-range succah. Was it pathetic that he was 36 and had never owned his own succah?

He flipped through the latest circular from his pile of mail. The Lucite succahs would cost a whole lot more than he could afford. And those giant hanging murals were nice, but also out of his budget. And look at that, mouth-watering menus so you could purchase some of the Yom Tov meals. Or at least just the salads or desserts. Nope, also out of budget.

He tossed the circular aside. It slid off his desk and made its way to the plush carpeting.

“Being poor,” he said to absolutely nobody, “is really, really annoying.”