Ever ask yourself that? Why DO you have a kid?
Welp, I’ll tellya: Its because your kid is smarter than you.
Yep. That’s it: no question. Chances are your kid started out smarter than you. But as time passed, the brat got smarter and smarter…the brat figured out more things…the brat adapted to the changing times… And by golly! The kid’s a grown man or a grown woman, and about ten times smarter than you!
Meanwhile, all that time, your own marbles have been rolling out your ears.
😀
Seriously: you would not believe how amazing Mi’jito is…because I can’t believe it myself. Not just because he knows so much more than I do (that’s to be expected, as our culture evolves over a couple of decades), but because he knows what to do with that so much more stuff.
Computers, especially. Of course. Money: investments, real estate.
All this moonie admiration brings us around to the question of how to handle my estate...which includes everything my father left me, plus real estate, plus more money, plus…plus…plus…on and freakin’ on.
I plan to leave him my house…but DO I want to do that? A house is not 100% asset. It also has drawbacks. It has expenses. It may have loans against its equity. It may be falling down in its old age. It has taxes. And depreciation. And ever-growing costs of upkeep. Questions of neighborhood stability — or instability. Crackpot neighbors. Bat-brained city projects…augh!
Lately I’ve been thinking maybe I should look at the type of old-folkerie my father consigned himself to, after my mother died. The one he went into is actually within (lengthy) walking distance of the Funny Farm: once called Orangewood, it’s now dubbed The Terraces.
It has as its benefit some halfway decent apartments and a skilled, experienced staff who look after you. But the place is much changed today from what it was in my father’s heyday. So…I have no idea, really, what I’d be getting into.
My house is very comfortable and in a moderately safe district. Hiring someone to come in and take care of me surely wouldn’t cost any MORE than parking me in some institution. It might not cost as much. And you can be sure it wouldn’t make me anywhere near as miserable.
What I would need to do, though — something I’ve neglected! — is get back in with the church, show up down there at least once a week and preferably more, and cultivate friendships and activities.
Without a job, it must be admitted: I’ve let my social life lapse. Just now I don’t know anyone and don’t do anything. But really…how hard would it be to get back into some activities to let me rub elbows with other old bats?
Hmmm…. So, I guess starting in the next couple of weeks, I should get off my duff and go JOIN a few things.
Let’s see how that goes. If it revives “a life,” then I can basically rebuild what I had before I slid into the present lethargy.
But if it has no positive effect, then I’ll need to think a whole lot more seriously about moving into an old-folkerie, where staff can ride herd on me 24/7.
Ugh.