My grandmother use to check her investments daily. Pre-internet. She would watch the ticker on TV. Like a caveman. She had several notebooks and she would list out the dozen or so companies she had invested in and write down their current worth. Impeccable handwriting. Every few months or so she would gather her financial paperwork and her notebooks and place them neatly in a pile next to her on the couch. Between her legs she would place a small waste basket. She would slowly and deliberately tear each sheet of paper and drop them into the trash while she watched her programs. The noise would drive my father fucking nuts.
Her actions seem deeply metaphoric to me today. They were not intended to be. She was just doing a thing that made her happy. Not sending coded moral messages.
I’m bad at money. So, fuck lot of good it did anyway. But I am very good at systematically getting rid of important things.
This isn’t my first blog. But it’s been a while. I’m in the mood now to start a thing I will unceremoniously get rid of someday.
No comments:
Post a Comment