Holy crap - including the cars, the house, and my student loans, at least over $350K.

That's our mortgage.

Burrell, won't Frances's costs be going down as she gets older, or have they already done that?

You MUST post pictures of her in the monkey pants. It's a sure bet to cause aches in most ovaries.

I ain't telling you people how much I make.

I could take a really great guess. But I wont.

However, if you do move, I'm totally moving in and pretending they were leasing to me all along.

What bugs is the, "we'll/I'll pay." Just makes me feel like a leech.

I'll just note that I'd gladly pay for your company. Most of my friends in SF have been through so many cycles of layoffs and unemployment and downturns that nobody thinks twice about picking up the check when you're the one working. Because, six months from now they'll be taking you to lunch. That's the way it's been for me for as long as I've lived here. Because if you do have a job here it's well compensated.

One thing that was very interesting to me when I tempted for Wells Fargo (answering 800 calls for ATM malfunctions) was that I could see everybodys bank account. Most people don't have that much cash at hand. A lot of people are paycheck to paycheck.

Dang Lori, I figured you two had a good deal because of how long you've been there, but that's a great price. Two bedroom apts, no yard, in my neighborhood are way more than that.

I utterly loathe the "Never talk about your salary to your co-workers" taboo (though it seems to be helping ita in staying out of the firing line of her aggrieved co-worker's rage).

I remember sitting down with a co-worker in my division a half dozen years ago and mutually confessing our salaries and the last time we'd gotten increases. It was hard and shameful, but instructive, for both of us: it confirmed what we'd both suspected, that our supervisor was playing favorites. The co-worker, who had started three years later than me and had what she herself admitted was a lighter workload (and she couldn't do anything about it, as our supervisor had explicitly forbidden her to take any of my excess work because I was clearly a whiny goldbricker who refused to do her fair share), was two salary steps ahead of me and making $3-400 more a month.

That info-sharing confirmed and clarified our general sense of unease about the supervisor's ethics and competency, and was the catalyst for a series of fortunate events that led to both of us leaving - co-worker for a job that paid less but made her actually happy, me for a slightly higher-paying job under people with zero charm but a comfortingly rigid sense of fair play and mutual respect. And eventually I got to come back, at another salary increase, to work for my beloved doctor again after the evil supervisor had departed.

The don't-discuss-your-salary taboo was definitely one of the many weapons she used to keep her underlings off-balance, dependent on her, and resentful and suspicious of one another, and both my co-worker and I were so damn happy that we went behind her back and did what we oughtn't.

YWorkSituation,SalaryStructureAndEvilSupervisorMV, obviously.

That's our mortgage.

As much as I dislike living in the middle of nowhere, that is the one huge advantage. This house is so much cheaper than our house in Colorado. Of course, I would never choose to live here long term.

A lot of people are paycheck to paycheck.

Which is what's so unconscionably wrong about "paycheck-cashing" businesses. They take desperate people and make them much, much more desperate.

If I were in Congress, there would be a law saying that (A) all banks must cash paychecks they issue and (B) a certain sort of minimum account, WITH DEPOSIT PRIVILEGES, must be available to all comers.

And we know your dog's name, too, Liese. We're onta ya

Hee! This is true. I am doomed.

Liese (and Kat), my parents have a straw bale house in New Mexico.

Oh, wow, Nonian. I would be really appreciative. Right now we're just reading books and getting all worked up. I may email you later, if that's okay?

And our family is a check-picking-up-family, which causes problems sometimes when we just can't.

Yes, my daughter now owns a pair of MONKEY PANTS!

Whoohoo! Monkey pants! Burrell-baby-monkey-ants!

Hey, boss, you look really foamy in a corset!

Thank dog that is never ever a possibility in my workplace.