Which, of course, may very well serve as an excuse for a late post tomorrow. Or not.
Stolen from Sean at Doc in the Box:
Pretty poignant, eh? I particularly like the thought of the person who said “there are two kinds of secrets: those we keep from others and those we keep from ourselves.” How VERY true. As it’s said: “Denial” ain’t just a river in
I’m semi-speechless at this: “Buy Low, Divorce High.”
FOR years, Michele Kleier, a real estate broker on the
The client, a former high-ranking fashion executive and perpetual volunteer at her children’s private schools, was checking the price she could get for her nine-room co-op in a prewar building. When the market reached a high, she told Ms. Kleier, she planned to divorce her husband, sell the apartment and live on her share of the profits.
Last year, Ms. Kleier delivered the long-awaited news:
By semi-speechless, I mean I can’t print what I’m thinking, as I try to keep EIP at a PG level. But ya know, this woman is awfully damned lucky she didn’t turn out to be another murder statistic. And I’m sure she absolutely, positively needs to be on the coast opposite that of her ex-. People, especially spurned spouses, have gone off the deep end over things a lot more trivial than this.
The article goes on to say, in part:
Economists are familiar with this phenomenon. Even though divorce rates are declining over all, as far back as 1977 the economist Gary Becker showed that couples experiencing any unexpected, drastic rise in net worth are at risk of divorce. (The same holds true for a drastic decline in net worth.)
I can vouch for this, from the “unexpected rise in net worth” perspective. Don’t ask how I know, Gentle Reader. It’s an ugly story that need not be repeated here.
(h/t: Gerard)
And while we’re perusing the NYT… there’s this: “A Grass Roots Effort to Grow Old at Home.” This article struck a chord with me, speaking as a “person of a certain age.” You’re generally invulnerable when you’re young; the awful truth of the matter becomes sadly apparent as one ages. And as we advance in age, our thoughts turn to how we plan to manage life’s end game. The options generally suck, to be blunt. Losing one’s independence is high on the list of not-so-good things that can happen when one grows old. That and the specter of debilitating illness in one form or another.
Ooooh, we’re NOT thinking positive thoughts, now, are we? Quick... Change the subject!
Well, now. I dunno quite what to think about this…
The hope is for a brood of babies exactly nine months later on
Kinda brings new meaning to the term “personal day,” now…doesn’t it? Just supposin’…what would happen if you took the day off to procreate, but you or your significant other is on a birth control regimen? Would you still get the day off, even though your efforts could be construed as a “dry run?” Are there prerequisites for this sort of time off? Do you have to pass some sort of test? Sign an affidavit? Swear on the Holy Text of your choice that you’ll only indulge in …um… activities that are well and truly procreative? Lotsa questions, too few answers…
And Lori…there goes your fantasy, Girl! By official (Rooshian) gub’mint fiat, at that.
The World’s Strangest Laws, according to The Times (
::snerk::
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