Monday, July 31, 2006

Journal: Dog days

It was too hot this weekend to fish or to deal with the bees nest in the front yard, my wife was away at a conference, so I spent the weekend indoors, puttering around the house, watching TV, and trying to get our finances in order.

We're going to be doing some serious remodeling: our house's existing 3-season porch, rotting from top to bottom, will be replaced with a 4-season space with lots of glass. It's going to be beautiful; we're really pleased with the design that's been produced for us, and we're very comfortable about the people that will actually do the work. It's expensive, though, and we'll have to throw some more debt on the pile we've already got.

I had a hard time pulling the trigger. After all, it's more money than I make in a year. I spent a lot of time fretting about it, talking to my dad, talking to another contractor, thinking about the future. There have been days lately when I've felt like my days in the work force are numbered. Actually, I almost always feel like my days in the work force are numbered, but some days, the number is smaller. So I'd think things like "Can we afford $X per month if I'm on disability?" and "If we hafta sell the house, how's this going to affect its value?"

Ultimately, though, when I played through the worst-case scenarios, they didn't seem all that bad. Somebody has to do something; we can't do it ourselves; if it's got to be done, it makes sense to do something nice; and it seems like a fair price. And yesterday, when I was pooped out in the recliner in front of the TV, I thought, Well, if I'm gonna be pooped out in the recliner in the future, it would be nice to have something to look at besides the TV.

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