I don’t know what it’s like.
Night has come,
and I am headed home,
where a woman is turning on a television
and tearing open a bag of chips.
Later, after an episode of Mystery Science Theater,
we will fall asleep in each other’s arms
and with no fear of our imminent deaths.
We went down to the Navy Yards yesterday and fed the feral cats. Our favorite was a large Tabby the size of a small mountain lion. A large orange cat sneaked through a hole in the fencing and made like he wanted to come home with us.
I tried to convince Chelsea to climb the fence with me but she refused. I’m not sure it was a genuine offer anyway.
Later, we bought a bottle of champagne from Diego and walked to Fort Greene Park to enjoy the sunshine. Unlike the poor slobs forced to lay on the ground, we took the sun as we swung in our hammock.
I reminded Chelsea that this was one of only 52 Saturdays in the year.
The graphic about the false alarm in Hawaii was shameful and I let the Times know about it:
“The graphic about the Hawaii thing was sensationalist and in poor taste. The copy desk should’ve reconsidered. New York only needs one Post.”
I’m playing with a new long-term investment strategy that has me hiding money from myself. The idea came to me after a friend told me how she paid for a vacation by saving every five-dollar bill that came into her possession for a year.
My friend’s strategy is not quite the same thing as hiding money from yourself. The general idea, however, is to rat-hole dough that might traditionally be frittered away at the bar or on the Sunday edition of The New York Times.
Another friend recently sent me an invite to begin investing money with Acorns, a tech-company-meets-investment-firm. They charge one dollar per month to invest but have no minimum amount. In fact, micro-investing is the idea. The app rounds up your purchases and then invests the difference in an index fund.
This takes my strategy of hiding money away a step further. I like that it takes money that you don’t spend and puts it to work for you. I had no destination planned for my money beyond the sock drawer.
My fiancee and I were lamenting the passing of Christmas when we realized that we could now begin looking forward to next Christmas.
I told her about a song I remembered singing as a kid called “Keep Christmas With You.” I thought it was a song we sang in church, but some quick nostalgia browsing turned up a clip from a Sesame Street Christmas Eve special.
Christmas comes and goes so fast, I think, because it’s become another rote list of to-do’s among the many other activities in our busy lives. A series of boxes to check. Wrap the presents. Get the tree. See Santa. All immediately followed by these such tasks: Pack up the decorations. Pull the tree to the curb. Etc.
Time was the beginning of the winter season marked a period of quiet reflection and slowing down. Not a time for a global buying spree on Amazon.
I’m not opposed to gift-giving and especially gift-getting around the holidays. My fiancee gave me several wonderful gifts this year. But as is often the case, the greatest gift was the extra time we got to spend together. Doing more of that in 2018 will be my way of keeping Christmas alive throughout the year.