About every 36 hours, S and I revisit the question of whether to stay in the market (and I realize that having the question to ask is a marker of huge privilege).
This morning, I brought it up because JA pulled out yesterday, mid-afternoon (thanks, Facebook). S pointed out that JA is single, self-employed, heading out of her mid-50s, and probably a lot deeper into the stock market than we are, so it makes sense for her to cut her losses. We decided, as we do each time, that our only option is to suck it up and wait.
I mean, obviously it's not our only option, but given our relative financial stability on the day-to-day front, and the fact that the stocks are for retirement which is a long way away, we choose to wait for the unknown, rather than take the known losses. Then again, I said to S this morning that retirement may not be an option--he's going to be flipping burgers from his wheelchair, while I'm hobbling about on my walker, doing what I do.
It's scary watching that plunging line, even if it still feels kind of abstract, albeit abstractly insane. And, like I said, scary.
I'm preparing the girls for 62 degrees this winter and we've started shopping weekly at the discount supermarket. But this weekend we are buying tights, because winter is coming and, damnit, we NEED tights.