This was a pretty intense project for an eight-year-old, especially since I went so far as to include figuring the 8.25% sales tax into the cost of the items. These days, were I to do it, I would figure in interest from various accounts (fretting over whether I should use the formula for interest compounded daily or compounded monthly), check rates over at ING, see who had some good CD rates hanging around, and balance in my head where to allocate funds to maximize my returns until I could get around to spending the money.

Yes, the nerdy eight-year-old who created herself a summer project is still locked deep inside my Clinique and Banana Republic shell.

Another way this project from an eight-year-old�s mind differs from now is that it wasn�t all that easy to spend a million dollars back then. When the most expensive coveted item was a pair of $24 black skinny jeans with criss-cross designs up the sides of the legs from K-Mart, a million dollars go a long way.

These days I�d very quickly and easily blow through a cool mill with investment properties for passive income and the occasion shiny thing. Shoot, if I decided to simply pay off my house, that alone would take a good-sized chunk from the stack of clams.

Now deduct the diamond-encrusted scepter, the pony, and a couple bitchin� pairs of shoes, and I�m left with barely enough to eat clams for dinner.

I kid, I kid.

I�m coming into a decent-sized bonus in the next few weeks, and no matter how fiscally responsible I am in real life (sadly, no sapphire tiaras for me...), I�m already putting the chicken before the egg.

In an attempt to finish off the last room in my house, I�ve purchased a new bedroom set.

Yes, I Have Excellent Taste

I finally bit the bullet and will see the set in about six weeks. Before then I need to get rid of all the furniture already in there, hike to the grocery store for one of those super-duper carpet cleaner thingys, and then enlist some help hauling the current crappy mattress to the dumpster.

Once this is all done, my house will be complete. It took a little over two years since its purchase, but it�ll be exactly as I want it to be. Ta-da!

In addition to giving myself a nice place to sleep at night, I�ve got some other plans for the dough coming my way.

I have this fake tooth, front and center, that makes me crazy. I�ve had it for half of my life, and it�s about to kick it. Despite it bleeding when I brush my teeth and it making my gums swell, my insurance company won�t cover its replacement because it�s still functional. Don�t think that I haven�t thought to find me a Slo Poke candy to remove it myself, only to accidentally lose the tooth on the street...

Insurance fraud jokes aside, it�s time to fix this tooth, even though it costs as much as a used Honda in out-of-pocket expenses.

Also along the lines of cosmetic changes, I want laser hair removal on everything from the neck down.

Yes, everything.

I�m tired of plucking, primping, shaving, scraping, dyeing, and doing whatever it is that I do to keep everything looking lady-like. Believe me, if I had a child with an average Italian man, we�d have a Furby. Or quite possibly a yeti. Either way, it�s no good.

I�m done with the razor burn, the nicks, the scrapes, the itching, the waxing, and everything else. I. Want. It. Gone.

Also on my wish list is a new kitchen floor since a friend�s crapped-out high heels screwed up about 25 feet and will require prying it up, installing new pieces, and refinishing everything around it. It�s not nearly as fun as grown-up furniture, a dazzling smile, or lasers near my crotch, but it�s on the list nonetheless.

Also on the list: A grill stand. A tile backsplash in my kitchen. Black half-boots. Mini-trips all over. Marathon traveling money (since I have four out-of-state marathons next year). On and on and on...

Okay, my bonus isn�t that big. It�s time I head home anyway.�