I'm sure you're all getting sick of me blogging about the house and the move, but indulge me once more, alright?
I was thinking about money this morning. (Well, actually I was day-dreaming about Las Vegas, which led to me thinking about winning a lot of money, which led me to thinking about what it would be like to live in a solid gold house and have a rocket car).
But anyways... back to real life.
I remember eight years ago when I bought my Honda Civic (now Jenna's Honda Civic) from the dealership. I got a loan from the bank for about $18,000 or so, and how it worked then was the bank actually deposited that money in my account, and then I wrote a cheque to the dealership. I was 21 years old at the time, and I remember looking at my bank account online and thinking how amazing it was that I had that much money in my savings account.
Of course, this lasted all of 48 hours or so, as the money soon changed hands. But I was a college kid with only a part-time job delivering truck parts for barely above minimum wage, so for those two days, I felt like a king. Richer than astronauts. I remember actually taking a screenshot of my bank account to prove that I actually had that much money.
What a time to be alive.
So, you can imagine my confusion last April when I bought my truck. Having not purchased a vehicle since the day I bought the Honda, I just assumed the process was the same. And though $18,000 (or in the truck's case, a little more) isn't quite the same awe-inspiring amount it was when I was 21 (but it's still a helluva lot of money, don't get my wrong), I was disappointed to learn that the money would never, not for a second, be in my bank account. The bank instead just wrote a bank draft directly to the seller.
And on a much larger scale, it's the same way with mortgages. You never actually "have" the hundreds of thousands of dollars that you spend on a house. I mean, it would be pretty foolish for the bank to cut somebody a cheque for $500,000 and say "There ya go, Champ. Go buy something nice."
But the point I'm trying to make – you knew I'd get there eventually – is that in three days, when the sale of my house is finally final, I will actually have the money in my account.
Granted, it's temporary again – I have to pony up $20,00 immediately for a deposit, and the rest gets spent on the down payment in September – but still, it's exciting for the time being.
I am not a rich man, as you are no doubt aware (I just wrote a bunch of paragraphs about buying a Honda Civic for crissakes, not a Bentley). But for approximately six months, I will have in my account a substantial amount of money. Of course, I can't do anything with this money. I can't – or should I say, shouldn't – take this money with me to Las Vegas in April and put a five-digit figure down on black. I can't buy a Porsche. I can't develop a $1,000-a-day Faberge egg habit, either.
Really, there's only two things I can do. One, I can withdraw all the money in loonies, and fill Christene's parents' basement with them and swim around Scrooge McDuck-style or I can do what I did eight years ago, and log into my online bank account every day – even when I have no reason to – and look at it. Stare at it. Marvel at it. Maybe even take a screenshot.
I'm considering both.
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