The Money Comes, The Money Goes

I confess: I'm a class traitor.

The Significant Other and I keep looking around for alternative energy sources; we've converted our new (to us) truck to propane; we use a composting toilet and grow a lot of our own food; and I'm a die hard socialist who supports the progressive income tax and socialized medicine.

But I've probably had Big Oil drop $250,000 in my lap over the past 10 years.

C'est weird, eh?

My grandmother's father was good at leagalese, so we've ended up with mineral rights to a small plot of land in southern Alberta, which Husky has decided is worth drilling for oil. Add that to the skyrocketing cost of fuel, and that means I just got another cheque. Granted, it's "just" for a few thousand dollars, but it means we've made some silly purchases of late.

For instance:

a tattoo;
an ice cream maker;
two pairs of prescription glasses (1 of shades);
a beer kit (cream ale);
a bottle of 15-year old Oban (finally!);
tea at the Empress Hotel for three.

You add in a new line-of-credit (cheapest way to borrow money) and there's the new(ish) truck and possibly a motorcycle for herself, and then we'll be broke again. It should be at least a year before a new round of Capitalist Orgasm (building a new bathroom) happens.

Still, damn fun when you can do it.