I was homeless in 1984 with $1.73 to my name, living in southern California. As fate would have it, living in California and all, I was "discovered"...by the police. One might think that was the low point. Wrong. The low point was a year and a half later, after pulling myself up by the old bootstraps for like the fifth fucking time, drunk AF Again, I knew the streets were waiting for me again. The long and short of it is I got sober and stayed sober. I did not bet on myself, but others did. Moral of story, nobody does it alone, and occasionally a longshot comes in. BTW, I distinctly remember the buck seventy three because that's what the boys at County gave back to me upon release. I now have slightly more than that. So there is my true confessions contribution to your thread. Now get back up and ride that pony to your next profitable venture.