money makes me tired. my mother said that God threw it out the window. my dad didn't say anything at all about it -- but he always left his trousers on a dining room chair when he went to bed, and there were always Eisenhower silver dollar coins in them -- I used to make quite a haul that way. and when our daughter was ten I refused to pay three-hundred dollars for her to go to horse riding camp for two weeks. not a skill set she could use in the future, the way I saw it. but her mother forced me to pay for it by remaining calm and supportive of my resolve not to dip into our savings. that was a dirty trick. the more supportive she got the more I felt like a rat. until finally I coughed it up -- I even went down to the Goodwill Store on Larepenteur for a pair of riding boots for her. true, they were actually old Army boots, but she never knew the difference. after she came back from camp she never rode a horse again, and she's nearly 40 now.
The whole thing makes me tired; let's drop the subject.
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