It is likely that I ought to be more serious about the future. My future, to be exact, though, since it hasn’t arrived, I can’t be sure it will.
You know how it goes.
I think I have some money invested somewhere, from my one-year stint as a teacher back before Y2K. I haven’t kept track of it. I set it up years ago so that every January 8 I dump $50 in it automatically no matter what the market is doing; I sing a round of “happy birthday” before heading off to bed.
With the upcoming opportunity to teach through a state college, however, I can sign up for the retirement program. After doing several calculations with pencil, slide rule, and a Diet Coke, I have determined that, by the end of December, I will have about $10 in this new fund.
You can imagine my excitement.
Visions of Isotoner booties (the premier footwear of the elderly) dance through my head, as I imagine the windfall awaiting me when I hit retirement. Such footwear seems to run around the $10-15 mark in J.C. Penney.
“You will be happy to know I have started a retirement account. By the end of the year, it should have about $10 in it,” I emailed my friend.
Forever the giver of Perspective and Good Sense, my friend responded back. “$10 is better than nothing!”
I, being the necessary foil to such positivity, answered. “Yes, though Nothing lives right next door to it and is on good speaking terms. It’s comparable to the Catan trophy jar. Or my dad’s “retirement fund” which is a collection of state quarters stuck on a map.” I also made a comment about cheap liquor and the winter months, but will refrain from providing those details in order to keep my parents from hanging their head in shame as well as offending the general readership.
I am determined to retire in style, somewhere around age 80, with about 45 cats. To show my dedication to addressing my future, I checked out disc one of season one of Murder, She Wrote from the library.
I’m taking notes.
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In all seriousness, I would encourage you to read John Piper’s book Don’t Waste Your Life, in regards to the concept of “retirement.” The book description alone will prick your soul.
Julie. As your unsolicited (and sometimes maybe bothersome) commenter and now financial advisor (which I really am to some), I would say you are above average in thoughtful planning for the future. First, you gave it some thought; most folks don’t. Second, cats are not known to appreciate in value, so they may not be your best investment tool (unless they can play piano or harp or perhaps some cat gutted strung instrument (we know that catgut strings are not made of cat intestines – but from goats or…)). Thirdly, as Jessica Fletcher so aptly demonstrated, a Murder will surely be found out and put you in prison for life. Though that may be a viable retirement plan (free room and board), your room mate will most likely be incompatible with one of your unique disposition.
Some might think of cats as a “food item.”
Ah, late-life restaurant wholesale foods / feline breeder entrepreneur. I’ll catalogue that as a possible element for retirement planning for xenophobes.
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