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How tired am I?

I’m so tired that I just paid the neighbour’s kid to shovel my driveway.

“What are we, eighty?” my wife asked.  She said this, but she sure as hell wasn’t heading out there with a shovel.  In fact, paying the kid to shovel was her idea.

“Just ask him,” she said when I got home, exhausted and miserable from two long commutes through weather that would have shut down any lesser school board.  “It’s worth it.  Do you have any cash?”

“I have a twenty.”

“Done.  Go pay the kid and come back inside.  It’s worth it.”

“Are you sure?  I can just shovel it.”

“Do you want to shovel the driveway?”

I looked at my daughter, her bright blue eyes welling with tears as she saw me holding the doorknob and about to leave her again.  I looked outside, across the vast, barren snowfield that was once my driveway.  I looked down at my boots, new and pretty, probably terrified down to their no-slip soles that I might now subject them to the salt and sand that had piled up at the end of the drive.

And then I looked down at the twenty in my hand.

So instead of shoveling my own driveway, I am twenty dollars poorer and doing this instead.

The author and his daughter, hard at work on this blog.

In the history of finance, money has never been better spent.

 

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