I was able to buy a meager seven hundred square foot two bedroom house in a not great neighborhood eighteen months ago with an interest rate of 6.375%. The regular monthly payment is $1,870. Fortunately, I'm able to pay an extra $250 per week on principal so I'll have it paid off after ten years.
It ain't much, but I'm looking at housing security in retirement, and that feels like three quarters of the battle.
I'll probably never be able to sell it because the buying market around here demands three thousand square feet, several hundred bedrooms, and dozens of baths.
Fuck it. My Gen z daughter can deal with it when she inherits it, fully paid off.
She makes six figures already with no student debt and feels like it's hopeless to buy a house, so she can at least have this little hovel o' mine.
Edit: Should I meet an untimely exit from this iteration of mortal coil before the house is paid off, I've got life insurance that will more than cover the remaining principal. She can then choose to take the cash or the house, which at present would still net her sixty thousand after payoff.
I have never received a dime of support from family, so I'm hell bent on getting her every advantage possible.
This comment along with the description of her whip as "tactical" took me down a small Google rabbit hole, and I can't figure out what makes a particular weapon (or in some cases a flashlight) "tactical".
The definition of tactic is a plan or action for achieving a goal; a maneuver. So would a leather whip have no goal while a metal one does?
I remember when I was a kid, the Guinness book of world records had an entry for most cigarettes smoked at once. There was a picture of a guy with a whole bunch of cigarettes stuffed in his mouth smoking them. Great reading material for kids back then.
Got about twelve to fifteen years to go depending on circumstance. Been working for forty years as child labor laws weren't so strict when I was young. Pretty tired and not sure how I'm going to endure the home stretch.
The real achievement is that I got my daughter through a high falutin' extremely expensive college with no debt and now she makes more than I do.
I had to eat a whole lot of ramen and endure living in a shit hole rat infested rent house to pull it off, but she did the work, I was able to fund it, and it all worked out in the end.
Somehow, she still voluntarily speaks to me. That's the achievement.
The first time I went to college, I was shit faced drunk every day, rarely went to class, and never studied. Somehow I managed to graduate with a B minus average, but not until after a couple terms of D averages and academic probation.
The second time I went to college, I was in my late thirties and had a much better understanding of the money I was paying and the consequences of failing as I had become a single dad. I went to class every day, sat in the front row, asked questions, read all the textbooks, did all the homework, and got out with a perfect 4.0 through two years of undergrad work and a year and a half of grad work.
I was pretty proud of myself until I later realized that I have never been asked for my grade average from either school for any job ever.
My classmate's dad from my first stint was a county judge and would say to us, "What are you worried about? The main thing is to keep going. Don't stop. As to grades, C's get degrees."
About ten years ago I got a ticket for an illegal u-turn as the sign prohibiting it was about the size of an index card so I didn't see it.
I acted genuinely surprised when she told me why she pulled me over and shrugged my shoulders like oops. Ok you got me.
She proceeded to try her damnedest to find something else to stick me with including the fact that I had purchased my vehicle while living at one address while my license reflected a different address where I had moved. It's illegal to not update your address on your license, so she thought she had a gotcha, but I easily shut that little stunt down.
I had my then thirteen year old daughter in the car with me and the officer was questioning her trying to get her to say that I was kidnapping or trafficking her or something like that. That didn't work either.
I took my ticket and went on with my life.
A few weeks later, I saw in the paper that she got popped driving drunk with a child in the car.
I've never had such a satisfying chuckle though I felt terrible for the child.
I'm curious where this is. They won't even arrest you solely on possession in most of Texas anymore. Now it's mostly used as an add-on to other charges to make the plea bargain less favorable.
Endless horseshit recruiters coming at me with bullshit jobs
I come from a large firm. LinkedIn became what I would describe as occupational hubris as I would see partners from there making prideful post after post about increasing the toxicity of the place in words that made them sound all wise and stuff
I would further see many posts about young people abandoning pursuit of the profession and there being a dire shortage of entry level recruits. Responses to these posts always address lowering the educational and certification requirements, but never address the reality of working eighty hours a week, getting shat on, berated, and dehumanized the entire time for about sixty grand a year with maybe a five to ten percent chance of moving up to the real money.
Fuck all of them right in the eyeball with the white hot barbed penis of Satan himself.
Every once in a while, I'll drive by that building. When I do, I open up the sun roof and throw them a Bronx salute out the roof as I pass by. I know somebody actually saw me do it because word got back to me about it. Petty I know, but satisfying nonetheless.
I make maybe one third of what I could if I had stuck it out, but I still make plenty to live on, and that increase would require me to be somebody I refuse to become.
I was able to buy a meager seven hundred square foot two bedroom house in a not great neighborhood eighteen months ago with an interest rate of 6.375%. The regular monthly payment is $1,870. Fortunately, I'm able to pay an extra $250 per week on principal so I'll have it paid off after ten years.
It ain't much, but I'm looking at housing security in retirement, and that feels like three quarters of the battle.
I'll probably never be able to sell it because the buying market around here demands three thousand square feet, several hundred bedrooms, and dozens of baths.
Fuck it. My Gen z daughter can deal with it when she inherits it, fully paid off.
She makes six figures already with no student debt and feels like it's hopeless to buy a house, so she can at least have this little hovel o' mine.
Edit: Should I meet an untimely exit from this iteration of mortal coil before the house is paid off, I've got life insurance that will more than cover the remaining principal. She can then choose to take the cash or the house, which at present would still net her sixty thousand after payoff.
I have never received a dime of support from family, so I'm hell bent on getting her every advantage possible.