One good thing about being a pessimist: you’re never unpleasantly surprised. What surprises come your way are always pleasant.
Despite the market roller coaster, my investments are doing better than expected. The Vanguard mutual finds are holding their own, and the broad array of securities managed by the amazing Dick Stern and John Reimer actually earned $1,500 last month.
I ran a net worth calculation last night: over nine hundred grand. Looks like I should turn in my notice this very morning, right?
Well, there’s a problem: besides the fact that it’s all on paper, I’m house-poor. Those figures include the $300,000 value of my own paid-off dwelling plus my share of the Investment House, which M’hijito is occupying while we wait for its value to grow. My liquid holdings are worth only a little over half my net worth. Combined with the piddling Social Security I would get if I quit now (or, for that matter, that I will get if I manage to hang on to my job for another three years, until I’m 66), it will not generate enough for me to live on.
I use almost all of my net salary to support the house, the yard, the dog, the car, a small savings project, and myself. Because I telecommute several days a week, never eat lunch out, and wear Costco jeans to work, the fact of the matter is that quitting my job will not result in any day-to-day savings. To gross an income equivalent to my present net income would take 6 percent of my cash holdings. That’s about 2 percent too much.
My share of the Investment House mortgage is $1,000 a month, which comes out of the proceeds on my investments. We will save $200 or $300 a month with the refinance on the Investment House. But that notwithstanding, my savings plus Social Security will not generate enough to support me in my present home.
I figure I need to work until I’m 70-almost seven more years!-if I’m to stay in this house for the rest of my life.
Since GDU is millions of dollars in the hole and my own college just had its budget slashed by $2.8 million, a nonessential job with a year-to-year contract such as mine is not bloody likely to last another seven years.
If I lose my job within the next four or five years, my plan is to sell the house and move out to Sun City, where acceptable housing is cheaper and the cost of living is amazingly low. Taxes are a third of what I’m paying here and auto and homeowner’s insurance are half the gouge in my present Zip code. Utility bills are lower, because the houses are smaller and they all have (hideous!) gravel landscaping. Grocery stores are much closer and can be accessed in a golf cart, and other routine shopping destinations, such as Home Depot and Costco, are also far closer than they are to my present “centrally located” house. So, gasoline costs would be lower even if I kept the Dog Chariot.
Trouble is, I don’t want to live in Sun City. It’s safer and quieter (as in “the quiet of the mausoleum”), but it’s a ghetto for old folks. I don’t want to live where everyone looks like me, and I don’t want to move away from my friends and what’s left of my family.
But if I lose my job, I won’t have a choice.
If I manage to stay here, when I die my son will inherit a paid-off house. If he’s still living in the Investment House-which he could be…at my age my mother had one year left-he also will inherit enough to pay off the mortgage on that place. He covets my house, which would be an excellent home for a young man or…oh, say, a young man, a wife, and a kid or two? He could either sell the Investment House and put the proceeds in the stock market or rent it for a nice stream of secondary income. Or he could sell both houses and move into a much nicer place.
Any of those would be good.
In the meantime, the fact that I’m worth damn near a million dollars and cannot retire absolutely blows me away. My father thought he would have it made when he reached his savings goal of $100,000. And at the time he did quit his job, that was enough to support him and my mother in what they regarded as comfort. Then came the inflation of the 1970s. By the end of his lifetime he barely had enough to keep a roof over his head. And my father was the Emperor of Tightwads.
Even if I had a million dollars in cash, the return combined with Social Security would not replace my income. I probably could live on it…now. But in ten years? twenty years? If I escape the family disease, I easily could live into my 90s. That’s another thirty years! Wow.
Save, young pups. Save, save, save!