Yes, I did the math on that already. Thanks for the update, though.
"Are you still going to be living with Mom and Dad by then?"
Yes. Yes I am. I'm going to live with them until they die, and then I'm going to mummify them and prop Dad up in front of his computer and Mom up in front of hers (browser open to eBay), and have about as much conversation with them as I do now. And since the house is paid off, I'll only have to worry about food and utilities, which I can pay for with the series of menial behind-the-counter jobs that will slowly wear down my soul until it's naught but a tiny nub of wasted potential, at which point I will snap, and become the local crazy cat lady who scares the little children, and they'll haul me and my long, matted gray hair and my three teeth off to the state home, and I will cling to the rotting porch of this very house until pieces of wood splinter off in my hands, and they have to tranq me to get me into the van. And the local news will come and film inside this very room, so filthy and stacked floor-to-ceiling with comic books and cat feces will it be.