Before we could initially list the Arizona house, I had to replace the deadbolts we had on the security doors (like storm doors, but much more substantial and in metal frames secured with heavy duty screws) with new ones. The old ones, see, only had keyholes on the outside of the door. The inside of the deadbolt lock had a simple twist-to-unlock handle thingie. Not good enough, the listing agent said, so I had to put all new deadbolts in all three doors with keyholes on both sides. For reasons. Yay.
I mean, it's not hard to swap out a deadbolt lock, but still.
So how was my day today? Eh. Should've capped it at around 6pm. [DISCLAIMER: A groundhog gets murdered around midway through this with plenty of gruesome details. There will be a second warning when we get to that part. Can we do spoiler tags here? I guess we'll find out.]
I have a list of things I've needed to do that I never get around to: Get a haircut, buy a new Timex Triathlon, go see the new "Top Gun" movie, etc. So I decided to go see "Top Gun: Maverick" today. [DISCLAIMER #2: Spoilers about "Top Gun: Maverick" follow] I enjoyed it a lot even recognizing it was pushing my buttons and had a number of flaws. I really liked "Ghostbusters: Afterlife" and it was very much like that--a sequel to a mid 1980s movie that revisits old ground and recycles old plot without being horribly derivative.
Maverick is now a test pilot and, despite what we saw at the end of the original film, has never gotten over the death of Goose. After ticking off an admiral, he winds up back at Top Gun to train some top graduates for a secret video game mission. An undisclosed country that is more or less Iran, only with fighters that are on par or better than our F-35s and F20s, is doing nuclear shenanigans at a secret base at the end of Beggars Canyon. And since they HAVE watched "Star Wars," the Death Star's exhaust port IS shielded, so they need to hit it TWICE. Some ex of Maverick's now owns the bar from the first movie and one of the hotshots that Maverick is supposed to be training is Goose's kid.
Now it turns out Maverick got the job because Iceman pulled some strings for him. And Val Kilmer gets a neat cameo before dying of cancer. Maverick plays some shirtless oiled up sports with the n00bs before getting fired. But he manages to get back on the thing--not just as instructor but leading the mission. They pull it off but he gets shot down saving Goose's kid. Just as he's about to get blown away by a Russian helicopter Goose's Kid returns the favor and gets shot down himself. They reunite and steal an F-14 Tomcat from Cobra/Hydra/Spectre--not at all China or any other country that buys a lot of movie tickets and proceed to shoot down 2 of the amazaballs Bad Guy fighters. Unfortunately there's a 3rd and just when things look hopeless the new Iceman shows up to save the day. Everyone gets back to the carrier and hugs and Maverick gets the girl. Holes big enough to fly an F-14 through, but very satisfying on the whole. Pushes all the right buttons.
So now I'm off to get a Timex Triathlon. The reason I'm not just changing the battery on the old one is that it was a Wal*Mart Timex Triathlon and, like so many branded items Wal*Mart carries, it is significantly cheaper and shittier than one you'd buy somewhere else--it does everything you expect an Iron Man to do, but there are no bells or whistles like multiple alarms etc. I've got a Target and a Wal*Mart that are next to each other. The plan is to hit Target for the watch and as much other stuff I need as possible with Wal*Mart for any cleanup. But I also need comforters for my bed and the guest room and there's a Bed Bath & Beyond across from the movie theater, so I hit that first.
First of all, I haven't found a comforter I liked as well as the one I got back in the early 90s. And this has haunted and frustrated me. Second, I had no idea what comforters cost. Geez. But I got a pair. Then off to Target. Now, Target apparently doesn't have a jewelry section anymore. Rather than wander around I asked a couple associates that were gabbing and they told me exactly where their watches were. I got there and couldn't find them so the fitting room lady, after searching for them a bit herself, led me to them. They had about 3 store brand analog watches tucked into the back of a big display. Wal*Mart it is. Now Wal*Mart *does* have Iron Man watches. But their most expensive one is $41, so I'm betting they're all as shitty and cheap as the last one I got at Wal*Mart. Still...I hope to at least have a look. Except they're all locked in a case at the unattended jewelry section. The "PUSH FOR ASSISTANCE" button does nothing--neither do the 2 Wal*Mart employees I ask for help. Efforts to jimmy the drawers of the unattended register fail to attract anyone that can help me and sadly the top does not easily come off the locked case. There is a locked case of necklaces that is lacking a top, so I stick my arm down inside that a few times, but this doesn't attract anyone and I don't need a cheap shitty Wal*Mart necklace so even spite shoplifting is kind of pointless and I leave empty-handed.
I got home and it was time to walk The Dog. She immediately spotted a groundhog. But as she "sees" with her nose, she chased it to the hole it came out of while it scurried across a wide open field to the safety of a different hole. But after eventually giving up on both of those holes, she spotted another groundhog and this one wasn't so lucky. [DISCLAIMER: grossness follows]
It was a pretty quick kill, but not as quick as some of hers, and pretty savage. In fact she wound up opening him up and a bit of intestine was hanging out. At this point there was a succession of carrying the body, joyfully crunching it in her jaws, and laying next to it as we worked our way to the creek crossing that would lead to home. When she realized there were guts hanging out she proceeded to disembowel him and eat the guts. I had reservations about this but figured dogs were evolved for this kind of thing. By the time she had the liver out she stopped to go puke up most of the guts she'd already eaten and at that point decided she didn't want to eat anymore guts. Eventually we got home--after a drink from the creek.
By the time I got to have dinner the shows I would usually watch were over so I was trying to eat while channel-surfing and keeping a kitten out of my plate. Finally found a station that was showing "Highlander," only it was shitty and after 10 minutes I realized it was one of the shitty sequels--with a bunch of flashbacks. Around this time The Cat managed to knock over my beer so I had to stop to clean up that mess. I eventually finished my dinner just in time to find The Dog's stomach was still a bit upset so I had to stop to clean up dog puke.
Then I tried to put new comforters on beds that The Cat was trying to be under but eventually got it done and didn't murder The Cat and here we are. I still need a haircut and I still need to either put a battery in my current watch or figure out how I can buy a new one.
[EDIT:] Yeah, trying to just buy from the official Timex site involves a prohibitive amount of pop-ups, spam, and click-bait.
Regardless of who the belligerent foreign power is, the idea that the US would just sail in with a fleet, bomb the shit out of one of their airfields, send planes into their airspace, and blow up an installation is laughable. Shit, like I said, Iran is probably the closest this fictional nation is and we won't even do anything when they buzz our warships with their goofy speedboats. It's good that they never put me in charge of a Navy ship in that situation because I'd just be like "Fuck this. Blow that fucker into teeny tiny pieces."
Just whining and killing time. 2:30 on the 4th of July. Weekend chores are done. No work tonight. No stores to go to (and if there were, I wouldn't go to encourage people having the 4th off). 94 degrees out.
I could go burn brush or work on cleaning out the shed I want to put a concrete floor into. Or wash the vehicles. But again, 94 degrees out. Maybe I should just do nothing for a day. Hmm...
Got in maybe 2 1/2 hours. Got the brush pile burned and made a good dent on cleaning out the shed. Trying to press through when I could hear The Dog barking in the house so I decided to call it. Good call on her part. Cooling off and rehydrating right now. Then maybe a quick shower before taking her for a walk. A short walk because she can't handle this heat as well as I can.
Don't know where this is going to go. But there will be bitching and whining. Walked The Dog. It was 82 by the time I got up, so we walked before breakfast. No snooze alarm because my Timex Iron Man finally died completely. 87 by the time the walk was done. With 67% humidity. Meanwhile The Cat has discovered Out, so when I opened the door to come in with The Dog, The Cat went Out and I got to spend 5-10 minutes with him while he fucked around on and around the back deck before I finally lost patience and he came close enough that I could scoop him up.
My effort to find a cheap little squirt gun locally continues to fail. You know, the little clear plastic ones in bright colors, shaped like pocket pistols. Every dime store toy section would have them this time a year when I was a kid. Dollar store and Wal*Mart had options that could work, but they were bigger and bulkier than I wanted for suppressing a naughty cat. Actually got to a Wal*Mart that had someone in the jewelry section. I mean, she didn't have a till or any keys to any cabinets or anything, but at least she was there and competent and helpful. There were already 2 parties there--a guy trying to get a gift necklace (he had a card in his hand) and a Korean war vet and his son who were trying to either get Dad's battery replaced or get a new watch. So eventually a cripple shows up to help us, but the necklace case is secured by one of those anti-theft bands and she doesn't have the magnet-key to open that so she limps back to the other end of the store to send the person with that key. This person, who looks to be around 97 years old, helps the guy buying the necklace--but does not have the key for the watch case. So they have to get the person that can open that case. Eventually, mission accomplished. Now lunchtime. Stopped at the supermarket on the way home so I could have some pretzels with my sammich, had lunch, and a nap (aided by the timer alarm on my new watch).
Theoretically the nap ended at around 2:45, but I had a dog snuggled up to me, a cat sleeping contentedly on the back of the couch above me, and the AC roaring away because it is now 98 degrees--with 44% humidty. The 78 I've got the AC set to seems positively frigid. Finally up and moving. Next up on the list are haircut and oil change (and possibly a new tire if the wait for that isn't too bad). Problem is, The Dog's obedience class is at 5pm on the other side of town, so fitting in either one of these--let alone both--is problematic. But then there's the actual class. It's going to entail getting across town in 98 degree temps during rush hour. And the AC is out on my car, so I'm not actually sure The Dog can handle that. At any rate, right now I'm realizing I need at least one refreshing beverage.
These days I've got my refreshing beverage regimen. First is lemonade. This is water over ice with lemon juice and simple syrup added. It actually works pretty well. Then is orange-lime tonic. Tonic water over ice with a splash of lime juice, topped off with orange juice. Then Kool-Aid. Ice water with maraschino cherry syrup or grenadine. Finally chocolate milk. I'm out of tonic right now (should-a picked that up while I was getting pretzels). Anyway, I think maybe a lemonade will do it. Then I gotta figure out what to do next. Don't think I'll clear out the shed, because if we do go to obedience class then *I* won't be in any shape for it. I guess I could clean some paintbrushes. For that matter, I've got some plaster work to do to finish off the doorway on the new bedroom. Then some minor trim painting. Yeah, that sounds like a better plan than cleaning out a shed. Or working on the roof of another shed. Or even washing the car. Or maybe I could just order some shit online. The driver's seat on my car is shot and I'm still trying to find an OEM one in the proper color. American Muscle only has 'em in black.
OK. I'm leaning towards going. In the mean time I'm mostly just screwing off. MS Solitaire, a Web Sudoku site I like. I did order seat covers for the Mustang, because the driver's seat is literally coming apart at this point. Finally found a place that has some that aren't OEM, but they're close enough to look OK.
Also confessing my sin(s).
In screwing off, I popped on Facebook and someone I don't even know but share professional interests with had contributed to a fundraiser for burial expenses. Guy was probably younger than me. Died unexpectedly in the hospital. No life insurance. No savings. Family (and it's a good-sized bunch of siblings) can't scrape together the $9,300 for a cremation with a 2 hour viewing. They didn't get to visit him in the hospital for reasons unknown and they just want to see him one more time to say goodbye. Sad. Tragic. I could afford to kick in a few bucks. But...
"Be sure to secure your mask first before helping others." Now I've given to charities. I agree with Robert Kiyosaki that charitable giving has a kind of karma where you wind up getting more money from Life than you gave to charities. And I've always donated when fortune has smiled on me and I had money. Money was a little tight when I leased my first rental. Heck, it was still a little tight when I leased my next rental. But I had some expected cash flow coming. So when St. Jude Children's Hospital was doing a Dream Home raffle I bought enough tickets to cover what I would've given previously, had things not been so tight. And heck, who knows? If things really went right, my next rental might be a $500,000 "Dream Home." (Or I could sell it and buy a nice rental for $100-200K and stick the rest into my mutual fund.) I did not win the dream home, which is not surprising. But then in the ensuing months my dog and then my cat died. Then my first renters broke their lease and my second renter revealed he needed rent assistance because he wasn't making anywhere near what he'd claimed he made on his rental application. Oh, and I was stuck in a shitty (but very lucrative) job for my friend that I hated and that kept me too busy to work on my plans. So I was a little soured on charitable giving for a bit. Right now I want to work on getting that next rental before anything else.
That said, another cold thing to say is that I'm more likely to give to something like St. Jude's or the American Cancer Society. I'm a person who likes to help people and solve problems and I've learned from this that some people can't be helped. And all you can do is assume the responsibility of their problems, freeing them up to go find some other problems. Yeah, this is a little different, but not knowing anything about this person and his family and his situation, I'm just not going to chip in any money to help get him buried. That might be horrible to say, but if you're a grown ass man and you've actually got quite a few relatives, you should be able to scrape up less than $10 grand to get put in the ground. So yeah, I'm a bastard. And now I'm going to try to get my dog, who is contentedly snoring behind me into a car and brave the heat and traffic to get to her obedience class.
Old and week today. Dunno if it was the heat, actually getting everything done on my list, or just being old, but I wound up taking about a 2 hour nap this afternoon and it was a big effort to get up. I mean, I wasn't sleepy anymore, but I just wanted to lay there.
It was, shit, I forget what it was at this point. It was probably 97 at some point. It was already in the mid-eighties when I walked The Dog. And I did that even before breakfast because of heat. Then the agenda was: Get the oil changed on the car, get a haircut, and buy a cheap little squirtgun to keep The Cat in line.
This last bit would've been simple in the 70s and 80s. Any dime store, drug store, toy store, hardware store, or even supermarket is going to have cheap little squirtguns for sale. But this is 2022. Squirtguns aren't nearly as big a thing. And the ones people buy are those Super Soaker monstrosities, which I don't want to cart around the house to keep The Cat from chewing on electrical cords. But after much searching over many days and many miles, I learned that Party City might have them.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The Plan was get in line for an oil change first thing, then get the squirtgun, then the haircut. But while I was walking The Dog I realized the flaw in this plan. Getting the oil change first only works if you show up right when they open. Since I was stuck walking a dog and eating breakfast, I wouldn't get there early enough and I'd be stuck waiting in line. So I did the squirtgun first to get it out of the way. Then I realized I had some keys I needed to drop off with my property managers. And there was some traffic snarl just before my exit so I made the snap decision to exit early and then navigate over unfamiliar streets. Oh, and have I mentioned lately that the AC is out on my car? Got that done. Got the haircut. Then off to the shop. Timed it about right and got there a bit after lunch. Was going to go to the pizza place next door, but since it was going to be an hour to an hour and a half, I opted for the corner bar down the street. They were out of ribs so I settled for brisket and two 24oz glasses of Blue Moon. Had a bit of the second one left when they called to say the car was ready. Got home and took a nap. (A bellyful of beef and beer may have had a hand in my lethargy too, now that I think about it.) Radically cooled off as I was coming home, but I needed my nap. Rained while I was sleeping but was still below 80 (although murderously humid) and overcast when we finally got out for our walk.
So now it's 8:30. I really don't have anything left to do today--although it may be too early to go to bed, I dunno. I've got stuff to do tomorrow, but nothing actually on the agenda. Look for real estate? Work on holdout renovation projects? Wash vehicles? Other? Who knows? But it isn't a bad feeling. I miss being bored.
This post is going to be 110% snark. First, a tangent on the charity thing. Tomorrow is trash day. The tenant I told had to leave left a bunch of serviceable stuff behind. I mean, it's all crap, but theoretically nice crap. Candlesticks, lamps, bar stool, wall...art, children's toys, etc. So I *should* take it all to Goodwill. But you know what? Fuck that. That entails getting the van out, going through it for the stuff someone might want to buy, driving to Goodwill, waiting around, unloading it, etc. I've got storage space and trash can space so I'm just throwing the shit out.
That out of the way, we'll talk about my friend. College roommate. Guy who's hired me as a contractor a couple times. I was miserable the whole time I was working for his company but the pay was very good. He is also miserable working for his company but he is divorced and has custody of his 14 year old daughter and lives in a relatively small town. If he quits his job apparently there aren't any comparable jobs where he lives and this means his ex would get custody. So apparently he is trapped in his job. He has a bunch of feral cats that he has adopted because of his daughter. One has a broken back, which does not hamper it in any way except that it is incontinent. Still, kind of a problem if you don't want cat poop and pee all over your house. He had another one that he tried to pawn off on me--even though he lives, like, 9 hours away. "He's not TOO feral. And he's showing progress." I begged off on it. Go back to the "you can only free people from the consequences of their problems so they're free to go find more problems" comment on that one. Well this week they had to put this cat down because it had FIV and was suffering complications from that. Great. Good play man. I just had a cat and dog that I had for around 10 years die within 3 months of each other not much more than a year ago. You wanted to give me a cat that would've died a month after I got it--and drive it 9 hours for me to have it. (This guy also drove a carload of recyclables from Alabama to Wisconsin in a Cadillac SUV because he didn't want to just throw them away because that would be bad for the environment.) This is also the guy who was interested in real estate investing but when I hooked him up with a contact who specializes in latch-key out-of-state real estate investors, he wasn't interested.
So yeah. I don't know. There may be a solution to his problem. He may ju--fuck, there IS a solution. MULTIPLE solutions. It just depends on if you're willing to do them. He's in a position that he could probably embezzle a ton of money from his company and just run off into hiding. Or, less extreme, he could've started investing in real estate with the guy I put him in touch with. There are options in between. The bottom line is, talk is cheap and what you're willing to do is what counts. Granted, I don't have a kid or an ex, so I have more flexibility, but the last 20 years or so, I've had 2 major role models for life: Generals Sherman and MacArthur. Sherman was tasked with razing large swaths of Georgia. Couldn't do it with his existing logistics. So he cut lose from traditional supply and pillaged as he marched from Atlanta to the sea. MacArthur left the Philippines with essentially his family and the clothes on his back. When he came back, he was within sight of his old quarters when the Japanese burned it (and all his books and stuff) for spite. I didn't want to work in the Reserves (in Hawaii--poor me!) I didn't want to sell the land from my paintball business. I didn't want to leave Oregon. But it was what I had to do at the time. And it worked. So far. Like I say: Life is like a game. You can't win--until the end. The best you can hope for is to be winnING at any given time. But you could get shot or hit by a car or get cancer and it could all go out the window.
[So while I was typing this--and making a baked potato and a fresh glass of scotch--he texted me that he can't get out because he "makes too much." Yeah. And you spend too much. Private school for the kid. Organic fair trade co-op food. Deli ham for the feral cats, etc. If you lived cheap and stuck your money into things that made you money you'd have options. Read "Rich Dad, Poor Dad," or "The Richest Man in Babylon." But as it is, he's so far along that his kid will turn 18 before he could build enough wealth to not need a job]
Oh, and on a semi-unrelated note--but still related--he found an apartment building in my town. I think I already mentioned this. I blew him off at first, but he was persistent and it turned out to be a really interesting deal. Unfortunately they'd accepted an offer by the time I contacted my realtor. That said, I figured today I'd call my attorney to figure out the legal structure we'd need if a future deal popped up (and this deal still hasn't finalized so it could still fall through). Anyway, they did a will for me awhile back and I never got a bill, so I thought I'd call them on that. (I've already e-mailed them at least once.) The receptionist transferred me to someone's voicemail so I just hung up. If you don't care enough about getting paid to bill someone whose address you have and who is trying to get you to bill them, that's your problem, not mine. And as much as I was intrigued by this building, the truth is that the deal to make it happen would likely be far too complex to be able to execute.
All told, Life is pretty Good. I have two different things to cover in this. If I took the time I could probably make it flow nicely. But remember what you're paying to read this.
I'm basically in a good place. Walking around the property with The Dog at twilight, I realize I am missing one thing. It's something I touched on about the Realtor. I need someone besides me to appreciate what I've done. I need someone to walk around the place with me and say "you did good. It's a nice place."
The other thing is, you have plans. And hopes and dreams. And they mostly go sideways. I am presently in a weird place where my plans, hopes, and dreams are largely coming true. Even ones I'd given up on so long ago that I'd forgotten about them. The thing about having pets is, you try to do things for them; buy things for them. And they never appreciate them. Or it doesn't work out the way you planned. Old Dog was only interested in a toy to see how long it took her to destroy it. And if she couldn't destroy it, she lost interest. Old Cat just didn't care about 65% of the toys I got for her. New Dog and New Cat LOVE their toys. And they play with them furiously.
So yeah. When you get a house with a yard, you buy a fire pit. And you figure you'll spend evenings out back, at the fire, roasting s'mores and hot dogs and enjoying a beer or a cocktail--maybe with friends if you aren't a misanthrope. And since you have trees on the property, you might not even have to buy that much firewood. IRL, the fire pit exists solely to burn brush. There's no sitting next to it, drinking and roasting things while the dog and cat play happily. Shit, The Dog hates and fears fire and gets annoyed if you have anything to do with it.
Well a few days ago The Cat discovered Out. And he loves it. He thinks the back deck is just the greatest cat castle ever. Today he got out when I was going for The Dog's morning walk, so I left him out. It rained while we were walking and I had a laugh, thinking how he felt about that. The I got to thinking more. The neighbor has outdoor cats. And there may be foxes in the neighborhood. Heck, he's only a few months old, even a squirrel might pose a menace for him. And while he may be able to evade a 50# dog, a 9# cat could make short work of him. But there's nothing you can do, so we finished the walk. The Cat was fine. I still had to scoop him up to get him to come In.
Did the afternoon walk and The Cat was nowhere to be seen. Decided not to worry about it. Got back. Still no cat. Worked on chores. At dinnertime I was preparing to go hunt for him when he showed up. Tried to get Out, but I snagged him. Then after "Jeopardy!" The Dog wanted to go Out. I'd just mixed a fresh cocktail so I decided to humor her. I hinted to The Cat that we were going Out and he picked up on it. So I sat out on my back deck, enjoying a cocktail next to the (unlit) firepit while New Dog and New Cat happily chilled in and around me.
I just need to cut my hair before I go to the barber. When I was in my early 20s in the Twin Cities, there was a local barbershop. It was great. Old school. Come in, read the paper (or one of the copies of "Playboy" that were laying around), BS, wait your turn for a top-notch haircut just the way you like it.
Then I was in the Marines. You get a haircut every Sunday. There might be a shop you like better than any of the others, but the haircuts are pretty much interchangeable as far as cost and quality.
Back in the early 2000s, when short hair was in fashion--and I wasn't in a Marine town--I just cut my own hair. You got a clipper with a set of guards and a mirror that lets you see the back of your head and it's pretty easy. Because with short hair, you need to keep it short and who has the money to go to the barber every week? Also, there was a local barbershop chain in Portland that did pretty good work, but that's another story.
These days I don't have a barber. So I wind up going to a Fantastic Sam's or a Great Clips and taking my chances. For awhile no one had a barber because of the 'rona, but now things are normalizing, I went in awhile back to get my hair cleaned up. Lady did a great job. So this week I went in again. Got a different lady. Nice lady. But it didn't turn out very well. I'm going to have to fix it. And then have a barber fix my fix next time I go in.
So yeah, I need to just cut my hair before I get a haircut. Because you don't know how the barber will do with the whole job, but most of them can trim and clean up a haircut. So if I just give it my best shot and then come in and tell them "fix it," I should get the hair I want.
This bear market is ass fucking me. Without lube. The next shoe will be the realestate market dropping but fortunately my mortgage rate and amounts are quite low. I checked on a refinance and it was 5.95% on a 15 year fixed for an investment property with 6/7ths paid off. Fuck that!
Bitches just don't want to loan money even on sure things.
You've just got to ride out stocks. Assuming Biden doesn't completely collapse the US economy. Look at the long term charts. It always goes up in the long run. I'm still trying to find my next property and worrying. Because a big chunk of the financing will be a variable rate HELOC. It has a low introductory rate, but I've been looking for so long that I'm almost outside that rate--if I'm not already.
The old strategy of using index funds is great as long as the market is going up. We are going back to the 1970's with stagflation and high interest rates so got out of index funds and am now buying individual stocks.
I won't tell you you're wrong, because it's your money, and all my money is on the sidelines right not, while I look for another rental property I can afford. But you're assuming you can pick winners and losers better than The Market can. Yes, an index fund is going to be limping along right now. But it will limp along. And pull through. The market made it through Carter. The market will make it through Biden. If you're trying to pick stocks you could wind up with the next Carolco Pictures or Zenith Television (both companies that I invested in that are pretty much worthless at this point.) CompUSA. Circuit City. Sears. Pier One. The list of failed corporations is legion. Twitter.
But anyhow...this may ramble. Depending on if I can keep track of everything I want to say and somehow string it all together. I work part-time in a factory. It is useful because the pay is good, it gives me plenty of time to think, and it exposes me to viewpoints I'd have never considered. I think building wealth is relatively easy. I'm stuck right now because I set a goal of a net worth of $1 million and that "last mile" is the hardest part (my net worth is nowhere near $900K, but is is a lot more than $100K) ("Last Mile" is a techie term from the 20th century about how it's relatively cheap to provide robust backbone, but in the end, having that bandwidth get to the end user is hella expensive.) Anyhow, I find building wealth relatively easy. Yet I find countless people there older than me and living paycheck to paycheck, depending on overtime to pay the bills. Worked with a 41 year old grown-ass man who sublets a room for $300 a month and can barely afford that. But the fucker took the day off awhile back to attend his kid's graduation. And, from conversation, he has more than one kid. So I think building wealth is easy while most people don't have a clue about it. But most people--even the most failed loser--has managed to have kid(s) while I haven't cracked that nut. So maybe I shouldn't be so proud of myself. Because what good is a fortune (or even a modest subsistence) if there's no one to leave it to?
I had something else but...oh, yeah. I love my house. That bit in "Ghostbusters: Afterlife," where Podcast is excited that the Spengler grandkids could be influencers. What is that and how do you do it? Martha Stewart. Is there a way I can monetize living a nice lifestyle so that I can actually live a nice lifestyle instead of having to shoot 3,200 screws into 3,200 dishwashers 2 nights a week? Because I hate that. It screws up the rest of my week. I gotta figure out a way that having style and living a relaxed lifestyle pays enough to let me live a relaxed lifestyle.
Part of it comes down to my Dad getting married late--47, IIRC--and retiring early. 55-ish. Growing up, I thought life was getting up and reading the paper, going into town for coffee at the local place and BS'ing with the other patrons, then coming back home to work on chores, manage storage space rental, and write letters. Then heading out to do your volunteer work with various organizations. That's what I want. I wouldn't say no to a kid or two or a wife either, although I acknowledge maybe I'm not meant to have kids--and that there are great talented people who don't pass on their genes. I'm not 55 yet. Should be able to easily retire at 62, but I still have hopes that I can get out of punching a clock before I hit 55. It would've been easier if I'd figured out how to get my military pension. Even if I stayed at Major with 4 years active duty, a war, and 16 years of reserve work, that's a nice chunk of change. I'd figure out just how much but it's more work than it is worth to no productive end. If I'd known how to work the system to get "sat" years by taking online courses or if I wouldn't have had a crazy dog that kept me from leaving town for weeks at a time on a regular basis is a moot point. I didn't and I did. So I didn't get to retire and get a pension. Oh well.
There. That didn't ramble too badly. And it hit most of the wickets and was at least mildly well written. Now I just need to figger out how to make $10-12k a year from that.
"No good deed goes unpunished." The things that hurt my brain's OCD tendencies: it is often not only simpler, but better to just do things the wrong way. I've got a little 1 car garage with a gravel floor that I want concrete in. Looked up references in a Facebook group and decided to try out one that looked promising. Everyone else just IM'ed him in Facebook but, me being me, I tracked down his contact info and called the number on the franchise site he is affiliated with. So not only will it probably cost more than if I'd just IM'ed the guy, but it will also probably take twice as long.
Or a friend back in Oregon. She needed a nanny. So she did things "right" and got a federal tax ID number and paid the nanny like an independent contractor and all that. She said she should've just paid someone cash under the table (this was far back enough that I don't know that there were any online nanny finder services). There are other examples, but I should be doing productive things right now.
Why is it so hard to get people who say they do something for a living to do for you what they say they do for a living? Pavers. Property managers. Realtors. Since it is a work day, I decided to look for viable properties to buy. The market is in the toilet and this is a largely futile venture, but today I found one that was at the extreme edge of what I could afford that had been on the market for over a month. Probably going to be a waste of time, but what the Hell. Now since I found it myself, I looked up the listing Realtor and contacted him directly. Might as well give him the commission as both the agent to the buyer and to the seller. Called his cell. Had to leave a message. So I went ahead and sent him an e-mail as well. Never heard back from him. This happens pretty regularly. I'm so goddamned tired of having to deal with humans.
Worrying may be my big ability--if you worry about things, you tend to head off things before they become a problem--but sometimes I wish I could just not worry as much.
New Dog is sweet and friendly in neutral environments, but she is very protective and very territorial. Only had one person over since I got her and I had to keep her on a literal tight leash with careful supervision the whole time. One person isn't enough to build a conclusion so it was interesting when the HVAC guy came over today. Did not go much better than the first time so conclusion is that she is very territorial and protective. So I got to sit in the backyard, behind the fence, the entire time he worked on the AC out in the front yard. Now, when I tried bringing her out to get her calm, he went ahead and petted her before I could stop him--a bold move, given that she was on a leash with a stiff body, raised hackles, and barking. The work is taking forever so I decide to chance going in the house to get my coffee and laptop and it is fine. The tech is wrapping up around the time I finished the coffee and computer work so I went to put things away. Of course now I hear barking. And with 20-20 hindsight, I should've dropped everything and got outside, but I plugged in the USB and the power for the laptop first and got to the back door in time to see that the AC guy had not only let himself inside the fence, he'd come up on the back deck and was about to let himself into the house--all while a 50# dog is going totally nuts in front of him. And unsurprisingly, he got bit.
Now technically this is my fault, but really, I really need to let it go because anyone with any common sense would've went "you know, maybe I'll wait out here for the owner before just letting myself in the yard and the house." I'm tired.
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