The meeting with my financial advisor went well. I rolled a recently matured GIC into my RRSP, set up another maturing GIC to roll in in August, contributed another $22,000 into the fund for this year’s RRSP contribution and finally reevaluated my stress, risk and comfort levels and moved up a notch into a moderate risk level of investment strategy. I sleep soundly knowing that my money is not safely working the coal mines of Venezuela, and the back street sweat shops of Bangladesh. I’m Mr Blue Chip walking down Easy Street, on the sunny side. How can I go wrong? How too, as an aside, can a country that starts with a bang be anything but a fun time?
I picked up a stack of books when the library opened again but I haven’t cracked one yet. I’ve been busy with shovelling snow, conference calls with clients and criminals, trips to Toronto to look at cramped condominiums and all the rest of the voodoo that I like to do. I walked nearly 20,000 steps on Sunday, on the mean streets of T.O. I walked so far that my back started to hurt. I was in so many elevators and condo lobbys, that they all blended together becoming in my memory like a fancy dinner party where I was the only guest, there were no drinks, conversation or party.
Frank Zappa once said that the most important thing to do in your life is to not interfere with somebody else’s life. That, you can take to the bank. Words to live by. So as my money is mixing with other money, making more money and as I’m among other people, not mixing, but trying in vain to find the perfect burrito to roll up my beans in, I bear in mind that I am just one little piece of a greater whole, insignificant as one little uncooked kernel of corn, on a cob, on a stock, in a field, in Ohio, in 1972, where on this day North Vietnamese negotiators walked out of the Paris Peace Talks to protest U.S. air raids