Fuzzy Math

We finally got around to doing our taxes a.k.a. funding the bank rescue/bankrolling poor people with six kids/bailing out GM/saving McMansions from foreclosure/plunging ourselves into an existential quandry over our dwindling value as contributors to the financial marketplace/I'll stop there.
If that comment sounds snarky or bitter, that's because it was meant to be exactly that. After scrutinizing the numbers and squeezing every last credit and deduction legally possible, we came to one inevitable conclusion:
I am worth more unemployed.
That's preposterous, you say. Well, consider the numbers. In the microeconomy of our household my wife is clearly the breadwinner. She makes substantially more than I do.
And that's great. Don't get me wrong; I'm not one of these dudes who feels emasculated because my wife makes more than me. No, I feel emasculated because she's constantly reminding me of it.
But seriously, girl power - yay! I'm actually all about female empowerment. They can do anything that men can do. Except real push-ups. But it's great if they have careers and break through the glass ceiling and breastfeed in public (as long as they still do the dishes and don't speak unless spoken to).
So this isn't a commentary on women's lib. No, it's a backhanded reproach of my employer: The government.
As a public servant, I earn about a third of a what a factory line worker in Detroit makes. I have no pension or benefits, I'm not protected by a union, and I can't work overtime. I'm kinda proud of that. I'm pretty good at what I do and I do it for the greater good, so my paycheck really doesn't get me down. That's not the point I'm trying to make.
But consider this: By fully satsifying our tax liability to the government, my wife and I are essentially paying the amount of my annual salary. So in a hideously depressing way, I'm basically self-employed.
But what's more - by earning the little income that I do, I am pushing us over the limit for being able to claim some key deductions. For example, because I'm employed, we make just a little too much to write off the out-of-pocket medical expenses for the treatment of my wife's cancer (by the way, in the future, St. Obama's health care reform won't even begin to solve this problem because it's only aimed toward the poor and currently uninsured). However, we could claim this deduction if I didn't work.
More infuriatingly, we fall just outside the threshold for writing off our student loan interest. About a quarter of my take-home pay goes to pay off the ridiculously expensive and ineffective law degree I have. This, of course, was my own fault. I chose to go to law school. But only because I was promised an average immediate post-graduation salary about twenty thousand dollars more than what I currently make. Those loans made sense considering that. But of all the attorneys I know, only a handful make that average promised salary or more. Again, if I didn't work, we could claim that interest.
So if I didn't work, she could claim me as a dependent. We could deduct the student loan interest, the medical expenses and have no liability on my income. We'd save on my commute, my lunch expenses and my wardrobe. If she would pop out a kid or two, we'd be living high on the hog. I could be a stay-at-home dad. My lazy side loves this idea. My intellectual, quasi-ambitious side is crying inside.
Of course, technically, I'm worth more dead. But as my wife was writing out the check to the IRS she downplayed the idea. Half-heartedly.
If all this sounds silly and you think I'm taking my employment for granted in this time of economic turmoil, you'd probably be right. I mean, we live comfortably and have nice things, so I'd be wise not to complain.
But then I think, 12.5 million Americans are struggling to find jobs right now. If you're one of them, and reading this, you're probably cursing me for having a secure job.
Well, it's all yours if you want it.

My February

Hey folks. Good to be back.
If you look around the Web, normally when bloggers are away for some time and they return to writing they say something like "I was sooooo busy. My life is so very exciting that I couldn't find time to blog".
The opposite is true for me. Last month was so very soul-crushingly boring that I honestly couldn't think of anything to write about. At least nothing that could sustain an entire blog post. I tried. Everytime I started an essay, I would get about two paragraphs in and fall asleep. It gets so very tiring writing about myself. Even I get sick of me. And I know you do too.

So here is a recap of my month of February:

1. My sister scored me sixth-row, corporate suite tickets to an Indiana Pacers basketball game. The Indiana Pacers are my favorite sports team in the world. They've been pretty down the last few years, and even though I'm the only Pacer fan left anywhere, I've been an ardent supporter. I got Larry Bird's autograph and met Sam 'Big Smooth' Perkins. This was the ultimate highlight of my sports fandom. I take back all the things I've ever said about my sister (not really).

2. I took Friday the 13th off. Not because of superstition, but because if I had gone into work that day, I would have committed some kind of mass murder. Work's been rough. And I hate complaining about work all the time, so I chose to sleep in. Then for breakfast I went to my local diner where I got scrambled eggs, grits, pancakes and massive diarrhea. Then I installed a ceiling fan and did some concrete work. Which were not easy tasks given the crippling diarrhea issues.

3. I went with a friend to an Indiana Hoosiers basketball game. They are my second favorite sports team in the world. They are down this year as well so the game on the court wasn't much to look at, but Bloomington always has some lovely co-eds in the stands, so it was totally worth the trip.

4. I celebrated the four-year anniversary of the time I got mugged in Detroit. I haven't really been in any life-threatening situations since, so that's saying something for a dude like me who's pretty much oblivious to his surroundings. For example, this month I will celebrate the six-year anniversary of the time I accidentally bought crack at gunpoint in Baltimore.

These were the only four things I did during the month of February. The other twenty-four days were spent in a semi-conscious malaise. Good thing it wasn't a leap year.
But this month has started off considerably better.
At least compared to last March that is.