Upkeep Of A House

I was one year old when my family moved to our house on LI. We moved one month before I turned 17. Looking back, it seems I lived there forever -- even though it was less than 16 years. This March, it'll be 13 years since we moved into Villa Wifey. Those years have seemed much shorter than a decace and a third...I guess it's the relativity of time that comes with aging. We bought a nearly new house (it was 3 years old) but now it's now nearly 17. Things break, and need replacement. Today an electirician is here, fixing a GFI receptacle that powers my Jacuzzi. I rarely use the thing, as Wifey and I have been married so long, but it needs to keep powered up so that the ozone generator keeps the water clean... As stuff fails, Wifey and I say "Wow -- we just BOUGHT that," but it often turns out the appliance is more than 10 years old. I've been reflecting on this time relativity thing quite often lately. D2, our youngest, turns 22 next month. At our wedding, my inlaws were 62, my mother 67. They seemed so old to us then. Somehow we're now in shouting range of their ages... Yesterday Paul and I took a rare day away from the office to attend a luncheon given by our friend and broker Victoria. A youngish fellow gave a talk about fixed income investing. Paul knew far more than he did --and the questions PAul asked made that clear. The poor young fellow was left fumbling for answers that weren't on his canned sales pitch. There were two young ladies there from the Colombian Chamber of Commerce -- clients of Victoria. I joked with them that my wife was there age -- a good 25 years younger than I was. "Yes," I explained, "to get her to marry me, I lied about my age. I told her I was 82." They laughed, as I did, but the reality was hard, too: I'm no longer a young guy... 52 to a 25 year old might as well be nursing home ready... So I'll not complain about the home repairs. The years take their toll -- on people, as well as stuff...