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