Wednesday, May 24, 2006

LXVII

Yesterday we met w/our financial planner. I cannot tell you what a funk I've been in ever since. I can't quite place the reason. In her terms, we're doing the right things on planning for the future. Sure, we can look at our expenses and see what we can cut back, but we're on track.

If I had to narrow my mood down to a specific reason, I can probably get it down to three. Maybe there is no specific reason. But let's break it down:

67. It's the age in which I can retire. Denton too. Only he'll be 70 by the time I retire. Doesn't seem like a lot of time to do things. I mean, between artificial hip and knee replacements - what are two old men to do?

24.3. More years of work until I reach 67. A frickin' quarter of a century left to go!!!! How incredibly depressing.

90. The actuarial age they used to plan our finances and retirement. I run out of money by the time I'm 90. Denton too. Oh, but by the time I hit 90, in our printed out timeline - Denton has xx next to him. Yes - he's DEAD!

In the best circumstances I don't want to live to 90. And I don't really want to live w/out Denton. In reality, I never thought I'd make t0 35. I think I'd be a lot farther ahead if I truly thought I would live this long. I would have started earlier than I did in my investment stuff - but the irony is, at that time, I wasn't making enough to really put too much away.

Afterward, I just walked down to Barnes & Noble and bought the new Dixie Chicks cd - while Denton hobbled behind me.....w/out his cane.

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