At least I'm honest.
So let me get this straight. We find it necessary to pay upwards of $500 to fix the car, and hundreds of bucks for dental work, and about $400 a month for the most threadbare of health insurance policies, and another couple hundred bucks to figure out why the toilet won't stop leaking... but we don't get to go anywhere fun this summer because we've convinced ourselves that whatever money Murphy (of Murphy's Law) deigns to let us keep, we should save.
Boo. Boo, I say.
Last night, I was thisclose to spending $400 on a four-day trip to Destin, FL (who am I kidding... I can talk about staycations 'til the cows come home, but I'd much rather go on a "real" vacation). Luckily, I live with a responsible adult - aka Trent, my husband - who quickly said, "I'd love to go to Destin, but are you sure you don't just want to put that money into the savings account? You know, toward the boat we're going to buy one day?"
I'm still not sure the Destin trip won't happen, but at least I now know how to put the brakes on my Expedia addiction.
I just want to see the ocean and feel the sand beneath my toes. Is that asking too much?
My grandfather grew up during the Great Depression, and he never spent anything. Never traveled much, never bought himself new clothes, never updated his car. I respect the frugal way in which he lived. I even benefited from it: when he passed away, the money he left funded my undergraduate education.
But it seemed like he never had any fun, and I wish he had. I wish he'd done something for himself. I wish he'd enjoyed himself more. I don't want to be like that.
On the other hand, I don't want to be like I used to be, either: a shortsighted spendthrift.