Dreaming of Zihuatanejo

Thanksgiving week end over. Not a dime spent on stuff I do not need. I came very close to blowing $500 on a Toshiba laptop. Obviously, I don’t need a laptop. But ‘need’ and ‘bargain’ have not a single thing in common. Thankfully, my roomie talked me out of it, with vague mumbles about newer models that are apparently just round the corner, and that will be available for an equally great price. That didn’t really convince me, but combined with images of my usual & fail-proof reason to get through week ends (the old I-don’t-have-the-files-with-me-sorry-will-do-it-first-thing-Monday-morning) not working anymore just did it for me. I walked away with a tremulous smile, amazed at my own audacity. I did not even turn back to look at Circuit City or Best Buy or wherever we were confronted with that tempting deal. A slight variation of that old story about Lot’s wife turning into a pillar of salt applies to me – only I turn into a walking credit card bill.

When I confront a sale, I panic. It’s not that I so desperately need what am looking at (that happens only in Flora Fountain, where no pavement bookseller worth his salt can ever get me to bargain – the gleam of desperation in my eyes is just too easy to read. Believe me, some have actually tried, disappointed by my “OK, I’ll take it attitude” – apparently, the average pavement book seller likes to believe in “earning” a living). Not many people may ever need a low-pressure practice chamber that you use to train for a trip to the top of Mt. Everest, but heck, you may NEVER get it for $21.99. At that price, surely, it’s worth even climbing the damn peak. After all, it is as good as reason as “Because it was there.” Mine could be “Because I got a bargain on the equipment.”

Besides, if I don’t buy it now, I’ll surely regret it on my deathbed – as I watch images of my life, a compilation utterly lacking in pictures of conquering peaks of any sort. All because early in 2006, the prices of low-pressure practice chambers shot up to $115,000,000. I breathe my last, croaking out, “Why? Why? Why didn’t I buy it when the damn thing cost just $21.99?”

This Thanksgiving, I promised myself that I won’t give in. Such resolutions are par for the course. It wouldn’t be thanksgiving if I didn’t make such resolutions. But this year, I actually stuck to it. Hallelujah!

I feel so grown up. I am celebrating by making a grilled cheese sandwich with the new toaster that my roomie bought (hey, if I didn’t pay for it, I didn’t buy it. It is VITAL that you appreciate the definition of “purchase”). I’ll even cut off the nasty corners off the bread. Did I mention I was feeling all grown up?