My daughter wandered into my office and sat down long enough to tell me that she had saved $24,000 working at the factory that builds aluminium window blinds.
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Although she complains bitterly every morning about the interminable grind and back-breaking nature of her job, she is automatically buoyed in the evening by tapping into her internet banking account and counting the zeros that shine like diamonds on the screen before her.
So intoxicated is she by her wealth, she is contemplating suspending her study of Ancient Greek and Roman history at university next year.
I did not want to discourage her desire to be wealthy - ambition is a wonderful thing - and I enjoy her presence in our home so much, I am reluctant to see her leave, so I supported her thinking on the matter.
I pointed out that hovering between child and adult put her in the rare position of being able to live cost-free in her parents' house while still picking their bones every time she needed to purchase something.
I was glad to point out that $24,000 was more savings than most people accumulated in their lifetime.
"But I have to go to university don't I?" she said, in her crestfallen manner.
"No, not at all," I replied.
"Yes, I do, because you've ruined me."
Oh no, a single violin begins playing in the background.
"Do you know, what my friends call this house?
"The Library".
"Dad, no-one else in this town has parents who talk about whether we should pull down statues of Captain Cook or not while they're eating a pie for lunch."
A 40-piece orchestra now plays in the background, conductor's arms waving about frantically.
"Buster (the boyfriend) thinks you're both completely crazy, " she cries out.
"It's sooooo embarrassing!"
"So you're not going to university," I suggest.
"Yes, I am going to university because I'm ruined".
The cello section now plays a lament of unspeakable sadness.
"I've been tarred with the brush of the humanities. I cannot look at the world any other way but through the eyes of my incredibly educated and totally left-wing parents.
"I am ruined."
"Reading Mark Twain to me as a child, and all those music lessons, art galleries and film festivals.
"Teaching me about the social contract, the Fall of Rome, about justice and the civil rights movement and the existential dilemma.
"Musical instruments in every room.
"How could you do that to me, Dad?"
She swoons.
A hush comes over the theatre.
Ophelia goes to her death.
Exit, stage left.
"I'm ruined, I'm ruined... I'm ruined".
