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A fellow comes across some interesting numbers while reviewing his insurance and investments. For example, my odds of living to age 85 are dead even (or maybe I should simply say 50/50), and I have a 10% chance of reaching 97. Being the kind of person who sees the glass as half empty, I plan to arrange my finances so I run out of money and groceries the night before my 85th birthday.
If I don’t die in my sleep that night, I will peruse the help wanted ads the next morning. If nothing works out, I will return to college on a scholarship and get a double major in livestock veterinary and girls’ volleyball coaching. Maybe at Oxford. Or else Vassar. Or even Oral Roberts. If the university of my choice gives me any flak about anything whatsoever, I’ll point out that I’m deaf, blind, dreadfully old, confined to a wheelchair, (which will all be more or less true by then), and I’ll also say that I’m half black, that my name was Lois before the operation, and that I plan to sue the hell out of them on 49 counts of discrimination.
To give another example of interesting numbers, the tax appraiser increased the value of our house by $61,513 this year over last. We should be able to sell out, buy a smaller house in a saner market with the extra money, and keep the $163,201 that the house was worth last year. Would I really take the money and run? Yes! By all means. I’d go farther south; get out of the damn rain. But then there’s Peggy to consider.
Peggy plans to spend the remainder of her life right here, and there is much to be said for that. The main thing to be said for it is that people who are prone to changing houses and employers are generally poorer than those who stay in the same house with the same employer. If not for that, I would be less agreeable. There’s nothing that increases my ageeability more than self-interest. Otherwise, I’m contrary on principal.
