broke again chapter 4 Don Q

Money has no value.  Peace of mind is worth more than a dollar.  Being poor and doing the right things is worth more than being rich and doing the wrong things.  Perhaps not as much fun, but worth more.  So I develop something new, perhaps something worthwhile, I look for the right way to share my love, I do what it takes to make myself rich again but to what purpose?
Its better to be broke than rich, far better.  The rich have to constantly be on guard.  everyone is after their money and nothing is too horrible to separate them from it.  Theft, riot, kidnapping, murder, even seduction!  There is, of course, an uncomfortable place, even worse, between busted and rich where there is just enough that you have to hold onto it but you don't have enough so that you know you will fail. 
But being broke, ahhh that's where peace of mind is.  but you have to be truly busted.  it is not a matter of being naked only a state of mind.  there is nowhere to go but up.  you have plumbed the bottomless depths and have found... the bottom!
Don opened the strange door with the strange key and entered.  It was dark and musty.  The light switch was of no effect.  How long had this place been without power.  He loosened his tie and sat heavily on the overstuffed couch.  A morner's kadish pamphlet fell out of his pocket.  How much had he failed to appreciate his brother before his death.  And now there was nothing but this old house and the life insurance which had been payable to Don.  His brother who he had not seen in so many years, who had died alone, eaten with cancer, leaving behind this legacy.
Don had taken a leave of absence, unspecified as he thought of what his loss was, and how little the money now meant to him.  He had never felt more alone or more broken.
His brother had had nothing, but in his death he had provided for his brother.
The floor was strewn with the diatrius of a batchelor who lived without the influence of women.  Clothes, and teh like, but surprisingly, no evidence of food.  But of course he had not been able to eat with the cancer.  So he had slowly wasted away alone here while Don had lived in his uptown flat.
WEll, at least tehre was a little bit of yard in back, perhaps when it was warm...he could have sat there.
But how did yo uget to the back?  He followed the hallway, and spotted some greasy boxes.  Not just one or two, but several.  Adn there were some that were not greasy at all.  He pondered these for a moment, in the dark there was something forbidding, almost frightening about them and Don retreated back..
He went to the door, sure he would leave, but the sky had turned black and a blinding rain began to fall.
He sat on the couch, eyeying the doorway that led to the strange boxes.  He would rest, the thought and then the rain lulled and despite his fear he fell asleep.