Tuesday, July 19, 2005

There was some Super Mario Bros. imagery harnessed to a previous discussion, dear reader, and I figured the same imagery would find a happy home in today’s conversation as well. Purchasing a house is a puzzle normally tackled when you’re, what, 30? 40? The Yellow Volvox and her man also attended the party on Saturday, where she mentioned rather offhandedly they had bought a house.

Certainly I was impressed with the news, though that didn’t distract me from gauging my own progress in the back of my mind. Remember the warp pipe we discussed on Friday? Snuffling for fire flowers in the alleyways of the Mushroom Kingdom? Well, if we add not only marriage to the equation, but also the buying of a house with actual money, then I’m basically a mustachioed plumber who cannot avoid looking for shiny coins inside every lava pit. You know, because the goomba said to do so.

I once entertained a plan, maybe this was in high school or something, wherein I’d marry by 25 and make six figures by 30. My friends verified this schedule as sound because I was “normal,” they said. Well, I’m 23 now. I win. Such road maps and stratagems are made to be reworked, it seems, and believe me, I’m not emoting in any sense of the word. That would be unseemly and, more importantly, absolutely unnecessary.

What I’m considering instead of a house is a car, see, and the pick of the moment is this one.

Wheels optional.

Whether I actually make it to the dealer is questionable, and the main thrust of tomorrow’s talk will be how to choose a car wisely.