Apparently, I have the perfect backyard for a pool. It's the No. 1 suggestion made by most visitors to my home after they look out on my exceedingly flat yard.
I usually nod in agreement, adding that I also happen to have the perfect head for a diamond-encrusted tiara - and that's not happening any time soon either.
But I've just heard an astounding radio advertisement that has changed my thinking about money. In fact, I'm completely reversing the conservative fiscal philosophy I've embraced since I was a 9-year-old subcontractor on my older brother's paper route, delivering to the two streets that rarely gave any tips, plus the one with the creepy lady who tried to offer me moth balls in a candy dish. I learned back then to save up my meager tips week to week, in order to buy something really special at the end of the month, such as a full-size Butterfinger. Ah, the sweet taste of success.
I guess I've always found it kind of thrilling to walk into that furniture store, that auto showroom, or that jumbo jet for a vacation, having earned that particular purchase (or at least earned enough to make the payments comfortably).
But now I see that this was an absurdly quaint approach. When I heard this radio ad for a debt reduction and consolidation company, it was as if my whole life flashed in front of me - and it was not unlike a marathon weekend of The Waltons.
Ordinarily, I would tune out such a pitch, because I am one of the approximately seven Americans who has no outstanding credit card debt, due to my bizarre belief that I should purchase only what I can afford to pay for in its entirety by the next billing cycle. But the whole tone of this radio ad was so forgiving! So understanding about how I might have spent a tad too much and need just a little help! (Plus, it surely made the lenders sound like nervy sons-of-guns for actually expecting me to pay for what I bought.) I became captivated by the concept that I ought to start living blamelessly beyond my means.
Why, all these years my husband and I have been foolishly saving for our children's education and our own retirement, essentially putting off what we could have enjoyed right now with little or no consequence. And I'm not just talking about a new outfit for a special occasion - though that's always nice - but a shiny new vehicle (or two), a sun porch, maybe a timeshare.
