One of the things I realized about myself some time ago is that I'd like it both ways. I don't need glitzy things. I'd like to have glitzy things.
I realized that again, today.
The fact that we've been careful -- not stingy, not niggardly, but careful -- with our money over the years is whats made it possible for us to be relatively at peace with the idea that I'm not employed. (Well, probably not employed -- I do still expect to hear from that company that I spoke with, on the matter of intermittant employment.) We've never felt that we've starved ourselves, or denied ourselves anything that we really wanted -- its just that as a rule, we haven't wanted much. I think that the most extravagant thing we've ever bought was the digital camera; the most extravagant expenditure was the week in London. Other than that, we've bought the normal things when we need them, when we need them. Maybe a bit past. Okay, since we've said that we'll buy the plasma TV when this one breaks, I do kid on occasion about helping it fall off its stand -- which is, by the way, a second-hand coffee table that my wife got in college. But thats about the extent of it.
Which is why it comes as a surprise, when I see my brother in law's new (to him; its about four years old) Cadillac sedan, to find myself thinking 'Why don't we have one of them?' Because logic has nothing to do with it -- we don't want it , for one thing; we're perfectly happy with the Prius for short-haul in-city transportation, and the minivan for longer trips. And for another, we could buy one, if we wanted; we have the funds. We'd want to think about it, be sure we really did want to buy it, rethink allocations -- but if we wanted to, needed to, we could. No question.
So why do I think, when I see it, why don't we have one?
Thats a rhetorical question -- I know perfectly well why.
And you know what? I don't like that I can feel envy.
2 comments:
It's quite interesting to hear from someone that COULD have something but chooses not to, can still feel envious.
I always feel that nagging green headed monster, but I always figure it's because we've chosen to keep me home raising the kids while we live on just one income. I look at some of my friends that both of them work and they're living in posh homes, with newer vehicles, eating out all the time, etc .. and ocasionally I feel that tug. But upon closer examination, I realize that I'm living my dream and soon I too will enter a new chapter in my life where I can return to work and we can work at building up our assets and living 'the life' too.
But that's why I find your words so interesting. Because you CAN buy the caddy if you want .. but you choose to spend that money (or save it is what it looks like) elsewhere. That's some great willpower!
I know the feeling.
Its way easier to say that money is not the most important thing when you feel that you have enough. When I was growing up, my parents worried about money a lot. I think, in a way, my anger/irritation at people with a massive amount stems from that. Just this morning, I was reading an article in one of my mother-in-law's magazines (we're at her house this weekend) about how Kevin Costner is happy with his life; his seventy five acres of property here; his beachfront home there; his eight-figure paychecks. I couldn't stand it. I don't care about him, but the idea that he had all this stuff irritated me, and I turned that page. But then I thought 'what the heck do you care? does it take away from your pleasure with what you have? do you value what you have less because he has so much?' Well, yes, to be truthful, that last is a little true. Not a lot, but a little. Its like my acquaintance, the cardiologist. She's rich. I doubt she'd say so, but she earns about two to three hundred thousand dollars a year, and has for years. She flies to France and Belgium and China four or five times a year to spend a week on vacation -- or as I like to say to my wife, she goes to Belgium when she's out of chocolates -- and when she's there, she stays in fabulous locations. It really used to irk me, when she'd mention these things. But gradually -- and you would not believe how slowly -- I came to realize that it just didn't matter. If he's happy, if she's happy -- fine, good for them. It doesn't hurt me (well, it SHOULDN'T hurt me) for them to be happy. I try to remember that. I'm not always successful, but I do try.
Yes, money's a wonderful thing, and I'd never say no if you wanted to send me some. But, past a certain level, its not the only thing, not by a lot. The choices you've made, like the choices anyone makes, may not objectively be the best, based on some standards -- Damn, if I'd married him, I'd be living in the big house on the hill; Damn, if I'd taken that course in school, I'd be set --- but if you're happy, most of the time -- I think thats a sign that you've got a good life. In some ways, perhaps, not the best, but in others -- oh, yeah. And I think you have a good attitude about that.
As for willpower -- well, of course, thats my name. Will, that is. But seriously, you know why I don't? Because I can't be sure that I'll have money when I need it. And that scares me. So if I have to deny myself something now, in order to increase the likelihood that I'll have it when I need it -- its not that big a deal. Take our house. Its a nice one -- we keep it in pretty good shape. There's always things we'd like to do; some we do, some we'd do if someone else paid for it. For example: we had our kitchen remodeled about eight years ago, and as part of that, the existing deck was demolished and a new deck, mostly a kitchen extension but with a small wrap-around deck, took its place. Underneath, its still a bare slab. We think every so often 'gee, wouldn't it be nice to have a really nice little room out there, like Jim and Debbie have?' They're friends of ours who live in North Carolina, and their outside patio is screened, with fans and comfortable furniture. Wouldn't that be nice? Well, sure, it would. But we didn't go out on the deck before, and we hardly do now; when we did have some furniture out there underneath, we didn't use it all that much. So we had to think a) could we afford it? Yeah. It'd be expensive, but we could. b) if we had it, would we feel that our lives were better, richer, fuller? Worth it? And the answer has always been no. We think that converting the deck to an enclosed part of the kitchen was worth it, and we use that space more now. But the under-deck area -- well, maybe some day. But not now. Its just not worth the tradeoff.
I hope that doesn't sound too pompous.
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