Another day of low level depression. I worked on some letters, which was all right, and then got around to paying my bills. The extra money we spent on our porch has not magically replaced itself. So, I was mentally kicking myself for every dollar I had spent in the past two weeks as I balanced my checkbook. (Is there an more up to date expression for that? Should I be saying "as I was Quickening my finances" instead?) Of course, this is a very stupid depression. Because, as I discovered at The Global Rich List*, I am the 47,650,653rd richest person in the world. What? Not impressed? That's in the top .8 percent, baby. 5,952,349,347 people have less income than I. I drove past a dozen or so of them as I went to the post office box to mail off my phone bill.

Of course, that all just makes me more depressed. I know I should be cultivating a spirit of thankfulness, but... I don't know, I guess it's just a pride thing. Don't want to think of myself accumulating treasures while others are going hungry. Or maybe I just don't want to admit that I'm addicted to luxury. Oh, well, if that's the case, then maybe the next couple of years will help me get that habit under control.

*Found via The Mysterious Traveler, whom I found via the local Webloggers Meetup. (I didn't attend, I just read the report.) I should bookmark those sites.
**Note that if you want to shoot for the middle, you'll have to drop down to an annual income of US$868.