In the writings of the Kabbalah, wealth was not measured in money but in happiness and meaning.

I am a rich man. The other day, Maria and I found ourselves in the house together and not working at 5 p.m., the first time either of us could ever remember that happening.

We both work all the time, day and night, except on weekends when we work but less. Around 9 p.m. we both start to drop from exhaustion and we watch a sitcom and read and then go to bed.

If we’re able, we watch something fun in bed and then go to sleep. I sleep restlessly – an hour or two at a time – Maria sleeps like the dead the minute her head hits the pillow.

Sometimes she wakes up and reads and sometimes asks me to find a story on my iPhone and play it for her and us. This works.

I stunned her early this week by ordering a game of Monopoly, which came today. She has never seen me play a game, although I played Monopoly quite a lot when I was younger before we were married.

I was obsessed with it for a while, and successful.

“This is why I love you,” she said when Monopoly came today, “because you never cease to amaze me.”

I made lunch and we sat out on the back porch with Zinnia pondering Monopoly. I think a game might be useful in a pandemic when we want to stop working but don’t want to do anything.

Maria and I are both competitive. We play to win. Should be fun. I expect to beat her often and thoroughly. No doubt, she expects the same.

A book I’ve been waiting for also came today, Lot by Bryan Washington, an absolutely brilliant collection of short stories based in Houston, Texas.

Maria went back to work after lunch and I sat on the porch for a while contemplating my wealth: Maria, Zinnia, Monopoly, a good book, a good porch to read it on. And my camera, too.

On top of all this, a farm, donkeys, sheep, and barn cats. Riches beyond dreams.

I expect the first Monopoly game might be tomorrow night, the pandemic has curtailed our cultural excursions.

Honestly, the riches keep mounting?