Busy day. A client needed cash to buy a house, just as Putin had decided that he did, in fact, feel like invading Ukraine. Thankfully the markets resisted the temptation to swoon in the morning, and I in any case had a bunch of short-term fixed income out there in anticipation of a possible house purchase. Just not quite as much as was actually needed. Then I had to work on separating some assets for a client going through a divorce, and some complex estate-planning stuff for someone else. Not designing it, mid you, just figuring out how to do what the lawyer was telling me needed to be done.
And then, home. Now I need to call my mom about stupid tax crap. Or maybe that just waits till tomorrow.
I haven't really been watching the Olympics, since I don't have cable anymore. News of the clusterfuck women's figure skating finals did poke its way through to me, and it sounded rather sad and dysfunctional, redolent of the same spirit as the sick doctor from U of Michigan who abused all those US gymnasts or what Alberto Salazar does to young women distance runners out at Oregon. A little lite Googling showed me that I wasn't the first to notice the resemblance.
Over and out for the day, it's time to clean the kitchen, throw some pecan Kringle in the toaster oven, and watch Schitt's Creek, which I went back to after a multi-month hiatus yesterday night and found to be full of yucks.
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