Big Numbers

My first full time lawyer job, in 1986, paid $29K per year. I left that gig as the firm, led by a jerk of an anti semite, was failing, for a gig with an aviation defense firm in the Grove -- they paid me $34K. My third spot, where I went right before D1 was born, paid a whopping $45K per year. From there I was off to the races...

If you're lucky, as I was, your standard of living increases over the years.  Most people live above their means -- we have been fortunate to only have had to do that briefly -- when Wifey quit to have D1 -- until my income caught up. Wifey still likes to grind me over an incident in 1989.  I was very pressured and stressed about making things a go on my salary, and I came home to see that Wifey and my sister had bought a new bedding and curtain set for D1. I think it cost about $150. I freaked -- take it back -- that's a luxury we can't afford! My sister had already hung the curtains, and the bedroom set had to stay.  Wifey wasn't worried at all -- she didn't need to. I had taken on the responsibility of all our finances.

Well -- what a difference several decades can make. Today I stroked checks for our real estate taxes, property insurance, a healthy AMEX bill, and, finally, funds to open D1's wedding account.

The Big Man has a good sense of humor. Yesterday I had my yearly physical exam, and until I hear the results of the lab tests, and the EKG, and all the rest, I simply assume I'm going to be told the end is near.  I plan on leaving the doc's office, going by Publix, and realizing I shouldn't buy any green bananas -- I won't be around to have them ripen.

Well -- once again,  I was told I was fat but strong. Actually, I made up the first part -- my doc is a rather zaftig woman herself, so calling me fat would be hilarious. But the one, newfangled blood test the concierge company does, some kind of peroxidase deal, claims to be the best predictor of impending death from stroke or heart attack, and mine was "very low." Of course, the predictor is only 6 months...

Still, I was being told by the Big Man to savor and enjoy, which I plan to do.

Wifey provides no support at all. I moped to her about these huge checks, and she reminded me that it was my choice to buy this big ass house, and my decision to offer D1 a wedding costing more than four years of private college. She's right, of course.

If I had to do it again, I would DEFINITELY decide to be born rich.  Like really, really rich, like Trump's kids. Then I could simply start a charitable foundation and spend my financial worry time on deciding which charities are most worthy.

I went to college and law school with some of those kids. One pair in particular sticks in my memory -- they got married in law school. The girl was the daughter of a very big developer, as was the guy.  I think they took the Bar, but never practiced.  That ain't workin' -- that's the way you do it.

Nah. If I was given big money when I was a teen, I'd have become, probably, a total douche bag -- one of those South Beach, buy a table at the club kinds of guys.

Now I simply get to pay huge property taxes and throw huge weddings.

It could be worse...