So I am, somewhat reluctantly, enrolled in this financial planning class that was being offered at work, and today was the first of our four meetings to be held over the next four weeks. During said class our instructor, I will call him "K", kept asking questions like: "Where are you?", "Where are you going?", "How will you get there?"; and as I sat there in that room I was overcome by a feeling of empathetic sisterhood with Lewis Carroll's Alice. Too many questions to which I had no...yup no answers.
Anyway, while sitting in this class, taking copious notes, K stated that "comfort spending" is a big No, No.
(Insert sound of pins dropping, crickets chirping, bull frogs, whatever!)
I was shocked. All that I though I knew about the world suddenly changed in an instant. The rotation of the Earth slowed slightly. No comfort spending?! But that is one of my favorite things, one of the only things that can soothe the wounded and cranky beast in my psyche!
Now I really wish I could have seen the look on my face, actually come to think of it I am probably better off not having seen the carnage, but my sister obviously saw it (by the way my sister and her husband are taking the class as well) and she ever so gently reached a hand over to cover my clammy, ice cold one, and gave it a squeeze. She said that it was going to be okay, I don't believe her.
So here is the real point of all this psychotic rambling: Is it possible to be happy without compulsive pleasure spending? I just don't know, but I will consult with the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat, the Mad Hatter (especially him, I hear he made a line of fabulous hats for the Kentucky Derby one year), Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and get back to you.