As I always quote myself, “A person should aspire to be rich enough to afford anything they want, but not everything they want.”
That sports car… or that one. I can’t decide. Agh well, I’ll get that one, and if I don’t like it then I’ll get the other.
Agh well, agh well, agh well… AGH WELL? Where’s the satisfaction in that? Trump rich with a desire for the overboard in life, is like having all the sex you want with no orgasm. No culmination, no climax, no moment of, “Yeah I did it, I got that, I achieved it.” There is no, “This moment is special,” rather, “Agh well, I can just keep doing it. . .”
But on the simple pleasures…
I heard a story of a wealthy father who, on holiday, discovered his kid had left their shoes at home in another country. So the father paid to fly a member of their entourage home to fetch the shoes. Was he being pompous, or were the shoes somehow sentimentally irreplaceable? I like to think the latter.
There is something special about being able to order in gourmet food at the touch of the button, but instead just making yourself a sandwich. There is something special about only once being able to order in gourmet food at that touch of that button, and then doing it, and enjoying it.
There is something incredibly dull about just ordering that food if you can anytime without relative cost – because you’re so frikkin’ rich, of course – and there is something unappealing about having to make that sandwich because you don’t have a choice – even if I would have chosen it.
Familiarity breads contempt.
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