One of the things I really like about my real job is that I get to hang around a bunch of sharp young kids who keep me up to date with all the latest goings on in the real (i.e. non-academic) world.
But the other day, after a lab meeting where we discussed what we had to do to analyze our latest set of CRISPR clones, for some reason I got to blabbing about what it was like back in the old days when we first moved back to Vancouver.
Which led me to tell the story about how the offshore owner of the little house we were renting in McKenzie Heights/almost Dunbar offered to sell it to us for $255,000 dollars back in 1997.
Then I told them how I told said owner that I wasn't crazy enough to spend a quarter of a million dollars for a little patch of dirt and a bungalow that was, essentially, a tear down.
At that point, of course, the kids started to speculate about what that patch of dirt would be worth today, after which it got real quiet.
And that's when I realized I had been an idiot old, 'when I was young we lived in shoe box'-type guy.
Because I'd set all those kids around the table to thinking about how there was no way in heckfire that they were ever going to be able to buy any chunk of dirt of their own in this town.
What a dope I am.
Next week, the latest batch of young kids, most of whom are now younger than our oldest kid, shows up.
Happy New Year!