What does it take to feel rich?
[NOTE: I've been tagged by Heather to replay one of my previous posts. It's from last year, before I knew a lot of you, and I need to know your answers!]
WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO FEEL RICH?
This morning a friend of mine said, “So, now that you’re rich and famous are you going to have someone come clean your house every week?” Ah, the decadence of something like that. But the answer is no, in part because I’m not actually rich or famous, and in part because it seems like too much of a luxury. Maybe some day . . .
But it did get me thinking. I remember Oprah saying the first thing she did when she started making money was go out and buy herself stacks of huge, soft towels. That was being rich to her. If you think about it, we all have something like that–some secret gauge of what it means to be wealthy.
Mine is Charmin toilet paper. It seems like the kind of thing you have to deserve before you can have it. It’s too soft, too thick, and your little bottom definitely notices the difference. For years and years I’ve bought bargain toilet paper–including one name brand that was touted in Backpacker magazine as being the best to take on backpacking trips because it’s lightweight and does the job–which, it turns out, was a lie because although it might have been lightweight, it also had the bad habit of disintegrating at the first drop of moisture, and isn’t the whole point of toilet paper to be there when you’re moist? But maybe we don’t need to go into that. Suffice to say, for far too long I’ve been a parsimonious cheapskate with my tush, and that ends now.
Today I bought Charmin.
Time for you all to confess: What one item or service do you hold in your mind as the very definition of being rich? Is it having someone else mow your lawn or clean your bathrooms? Is it having a Mercedes or a Lexus or just a car that works? Is it being able to treat someone else to dinner, or give a thousand dollars to some charity you admire, or have someone else color your roots or give you a manicure?
One of my favorite books is A Widow for One Year by John Irving. There’s a character in there–a police detective–and he saves all his money for the two items he views as luxuries: firewood and books. I love that. That’s what I’m talking about.
So think about it and narrow it down: what are the true luxuries that would signal to you that you’ve made it? I’ll post a list that we can all work off of. Who knows? Maybe you already have what someone else considers a luxury. Maybe you’re already rich and you don’t even know it.
[In honor of John Irving's cop, I tag Liz B. at A Chair, A Fireplace, and a Tea Cozy, since that blog title comes from a similar sort of sentiment expressed by Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Right, Liz?]
Technorati Tags: Charmin, Wealth, John Irving, A Widow For One Year, Success
Starbucks, buying brand new books & those rare times when we can afford to go away for a weekend;-)
Kimmy, I feel exactly the same way about brand new books–especially hardbacks. To just buy a whole stack and not worry about the price. Ahhh, luxury (when I allow myself to do it).
Time. I have loads of energy and things I need and want to do, but there is simply not enough time in the day. Since I can’t buy time, what I would buy is someone 1 day a week who would be the me who picks up the dog poop, does the laundry, cleans the bathroom, goes to the grocery and pet store, and I could have one day where I could think, read, stare at the wall, see friends, talk on the phone, nap, knit, walk dogs at the animal shelter, whatever I want to do that just makes me, me. Just a day off from everyday demands, worry, planning, organizing, trying to cram it all in and knowing that I can’t. I would feel obscenely rich.
Definitely the books. I’d love to go into my bookstore with two or three hundred dollars and buy a huge stack of books that I know I’ll love and find fresh and intriquing. All sorts of books – hardbacks, paperbacks, manga…maybe a new copy of a book I’ve worn to death. And to buy loads of books I love for other people I know will love them.
First class seats.
I love to fly as long as I’m in minor luxury. I’m sure I would prefer a private jet or space craft, but first class seats does it.
One of my little fantasies is to be able to rent out an entire cruise ship and take everyone I know out for a big party. There would be free child care, and free drinks, and lots of food, and some amazing entertainment (both of the musical and of the “freakin’ great lecture on an interesting topic” variety,) lots of late-into-the-night discussions, and dancing lessons all day/night long. We’d stop at a few fabulous ports and go hiking and swimming and exploring where there are no other tourists and sleep on the beach if we wanted to. Hammocks and bedtime books provided.
Oh, and NO ONE gets seasick, drinks too much, or feels lonely.
Who wants to help me make my first million so I can do this?
Spoken like a real man, Patrick.
And can I say all of the above, except for by sea or air? (I’m a horrible traveller.)
If I really hit it big time, I’d set up a foundation or safe house for young (20’s – 40’s) chronically ill individuals who need daily care but want to live a positive, independent life. Sadly, I don’t have it in me to start a non-profit and raise money for it.
Otherwise, my luxury item would be a commissioned bronze statuette or life size bronze sculpture of my kids playing. That would be too cool to put in my garden so I can reminisce how sweet they are while they’re raising havoc as teenagers.
What a great question!
Sara? Can I go on your cruise?!?
I’m a girl, but I’m with Patrick. If I were rich, the first thing I’d do would be to fly first class. I LOVE to travel. 15 years ago I even loved the airport/flying aspect of it. It’s so, so horrible now.
Speaking of that, I’m starting a nationwide movement to ban people from airplanes. No, I don’t want your long hair–clean or no–flipped over into my six inches of space. No, I do not want to see your armpits and mermaid tatoos displayed in your tanktop. Yuck, yuck, yuck. And, I know that security is a big old pain right now, but I don’t want to see or smell your flipflops either. And, please. Please, please, please take a shower before you get on the plane. Especially if you were out partying last night.
Can you tell I just got off an airplane? One of the worst too–United. I just felt filthy when I got off the plane, and I’m far from a germaphobe (I believe in the 10 second rule, for example.)
Kelly: Of course! Who do you think is going to give one of the “freakin’ great lectures”?
Of course, you also get free Charmin in your cabin if you agree to speak. Are you listening, Robin?
I do hear you, Sara. Sorry I’ve been off the board, but I’ve been doing some serious post-hike napping and some intensive reading. Excellent Sunday.
Okay, so let’s start at the top: no, on second thought, let me just say as to all of these: I WILL BE YOUR BEST FRIEND. I LOVE these ideas, love the luxury of each of them–from Deborah’s time to Vivan’s foundation and statue, to Sara’s most excellent cruise idea (I hate the ocean, but I’m going), to Miri and Kimmy’s books, to Kimmy’s Starbucks (amen, sistah), to Kelly and Patrick’s notions about making travel if not a joy, then immensely bearable.
I’ve mentioned before that the thing my husband would want most if he ever won the lottery (I say “he” because I refuse to play, but that’s another topic) is a private jet. Think of it, Kelly–no one on board but your clean, crisp crew and one flight attendant and all your own personal guests. Plus I’ve seen the seats on those things, and they swivel and have plenty of space between them, so you’d never have to chew on some stranger’s hair.
I love Sara’s idea of the lectures. And dancing–I really need dancing lessons.
So here’s the vision: all of us flying on Patrick’s private jet over to Sara’s cruise, where there are plenty of brand-new books to read, and all the time in the world to read them and enjoy the other pleasures of the cruise (you do have a private theater on the ship, right, Sara?), and all of us sleeping when we want, eating when and what we want, and mopping ourselves up with the thickest toilet paper Charmin can make.
Heaven on earth, I’m telling you.
Thank you all for playing.
Beautiful, Robin
(I’ve been on Charmin since the days I ate Ramen for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Priorities! I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.)
Kelly, you would have been my Yoda.
Ever since I graduated uni four years ago I’ve felt rich, in the sense that I don’t have to think about having the train fare to go somewhere or accepting an invitation to have coffee. I can’t buy all the books I want but manage to buy my favourites. Life is good.
The next stage of richness would be being able to buy a lovely house with a garden and space for chickens when we come back to Australia in a couple of years (approx). House prices are mad so I’d feel very rich if that happens.
Being super rich would be having enough money to fly my family and friends to great places for holidays. I like the plane and cruise suggestions, and would add that there’s some great islands on the Barrier Reef here that you can hire for private groups. With a chef and cleaner, of course. Maybe we could all cruise there?
Yes, there are two theaters. One shows movies (you’re in charge of the screening schedule, Robin, to earn your Charmin, and you can lead discussions afterwards) and the other runs new and classic plays, and gives acting/swordfighting/singing lessons.
The cruise idea definitely makes me realize that I have found myself richer than I’ve ever been- in money and time – because I’m going on one in October! I’m not rich (I’ve been out of college for less than two years and I’m a public librarian for goodness sake) and I generally can’t bring myself to take too much time off work, but I’m doing it in the fall.
I like Cottonelle toilet paper with the little ridgies. Since we’re talking about it.
Oooh, Sara that sounds wonderful. I’d like to volunteer to be assistant swordfighting instructor – during our local middle school’s production of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe last year, I was in charge of teaching sixth-graders to fight.
It was hilarious.
I just answered! I really like the idea of always traveling first class…. but I went with a private movie theatre.
I think we’re all settled on the cruise idea, Sara. I’m in charge of making the Potluck happen, so you’re on cruise detail.
Julie McCoy.
Protecterous Julify negatatus!
Didn’t think I knew the counterspell to your hex, did you, Robin? In MY rich girl fantasy, I’m the one on the dance floor, not the one clutching the activity clipboard. But I will agree to bring the board games.
“Protecterous Julify negatatus!”
Okay, now THAT’S funny.
I would love to go out to eat and not think about the prices. I don’t mean just fancy places. And I don’t mean worry about the prices, because I have no real cause for worry. But I’d love to go out to eat without mentally going through the process that the Lemon Chicken is $9.99 and the Garlic Shrimp is $14.99 but I’d rather have the shrimp but do I want the shrimp $5 more than the chicken? And, for the love of Pete, what’s Bill going to order to mess this whole thing up?
I’m not cheap about everything – really – but going out to dinner does bring it out in me.
To feel rich… I have come to realize that having time and energy to pursue your true passions is richness. Because if you have the material stuff but are unfulfilled in other ways, you’re just a prisoner of your lifestyle.
(I have to think that MotherReader’s comment was inspired by my ordering the surf and turf Saturday night…)
Man, it’s really hard for me to find the one thing — I’ve had “rich” fantasies ever since I was a kid. The Aston Martin, the home movie theater, the indoor swimming pool…
But I guess my big “rich” indicator would be mahogany. Maybe it’s my New England WASP background, but I’ve always wanted to have a room decked out in mahogany wainscoting. Built-in bookshelves, high ceilings, maybe a pool table (or more likely a poker table in my case), plush leather chairs…
Bill, that sounds so plush. I can really picture it. What a great room that would be. Add that to your list, ‘kay?
Katie, amen to that, but I still think you should also go for the soft toilet paper.
Mother Reader, I know exactly what you mean. There are times I just want to relax and enjoy an experience, but the price and value issues creep into my mind. “Is this play–with these terrible seats–really worth X?” But the flipside is those times when you get really great food or a really great experience at an unexpectedly low price. That’s just a joy.