you know that we are living in a material world, and I...
Before Josh moved in, I think I had one item in my house that was worth more than $300--my computer. My car is barely worth $300. When we moved to the Treehouse, my standard of living instantly went up--I was paying more rent for a way, way better place in a way, way better location. We started going to the movies twice a week. But up until we got engaged we more or less lived within my means--I wasn't saving as much as before, but I was paying my way.
As the wedding approaches, we seem to be acquiring valuable items at an alarming rate. In the past week, I've brought two $500 items home--my wedding dress and my iPhone. (Fuck. All those tape-eating stereos from Kmart made up for in a single small gadget of beauty.) Neither of these things would have been a remote possibility in my life without Josh's money. It's a very weird feeling. I am comfortable sharing pretty much anything with Josh--but sharing money feels even more intimate than sharing a toothbrush.
I think it was relatively easy for me to be poor before because a) I never went shopping and b) all my friends were basically as poor as I was. But the funny thing is, though we both attended expensive private colleges (on scholarships), Josh and I are richer than pretty much all of my college friends but poorer, drastically poorer, than most of his college friends. So in the past three years, I've made friends with a lot of people who have some really nice shit.
Then I got my first piece of fine jewelry in the engagement ring. Then we started going to the suburbs constantly to shop & fill out our registry. We actually discussed the idea of doing all our grocery shopping at Whole Foods to see how much more money we would spend than at H.E.B.
While I'd like to say I am living through this changes in a spirit of gratefulness and joy, many times I've felt anxious and filled with negative feelings that I don't normally associate with myself. Namely, greed.
Suddenly I can't stand our non-matching dishes. My 30-year-old vacuum I was rather proud of is going to be replaced without remorse. We're going to get numerous kitchen items that cost more than $300. And I nearly weep with desire every time I think about my future reading chair, Buster. I even talk to him longingly whenever we drive past Restoration Hardware.
We have definitely tried to be mindful about what we register for. Every item has been discussed multiple times. We are committed to keeping our house "serial killer clean" as Josh says, and part of that is not having a lot of unnecessary crap. We want to love everything in our house, and we want to use everything we have. We're not registering for fine china, an electric juicer, or a single picture frame. We even gave up on the "Will It Blend?" blender (see the video below if you, too, want to be consumed with consumer lust). But as new cars, houses, and (possibly) babies loom on the horizon, I have to re-learn the difference between wants, needs, and luxuries. And I have to try to wrap my head around the idea that even though the money isn't coming from my paychecks, the two of us are building a life together.
As the wedding approaches, we seem to be acquiring valuable items at an alarming rate. In the past week, I've brought two $500 items home--my wedding dress and my iPhone. (Fuck. All those tape-eating stereos from Kmart made up for in a single small gadget of beauty.) Neither of these things would have been a remote possibility in my life without Josh's money. It's a very weird feeling. I am comfortable sharing pretty much anything with Josh--but sharing money feels even more intimate than sharing a toothbrush.
I think it was relatively easy for me to be poor before because a) I never went shopping and b) all my friends were basically as poor as I was. But the funny thing is, though we both attended expensive private colleges (on scholarships), Josh and I are richer than pretty much all of my college friends but poorer, drastically poorer, than most of his college friends. So in the past three years, I've made friends with a lot of people who have some really nice shit.
Then I got my first piece of fine jewelry in the engagement ring. Then we started going to the suburbs constantly to shop & fill out our registry. We actually discussed the idea of doing all our grocery shopping at Whole Foods to see how much more money we would spend than at H.E.B.
While I'd like to say I am living through this changes in a spirit of gratefulness and joy, many times I've felt anxious and filled with negative feelings that I don't normally associate with myself. Namely, greed.
Suddenly I can't stand our non-matching dishes. My 30-year-old vacuum I was rather proud of is going to be replaced without remorse. We're going to get numerous kitchen items that cost more than $300. And I nearly weep with desire every time I think about my future reading chair, Buster. I even talk to him longingly whenever we drive past Restoration Hardware.
We have definitely tried to be mindful about what we register for. Every item has been discussed multiple times. We are committed to keeping our house "serial killer clean" as Josh says, and part of that is not having a lot of unnecessary crap. We want to love everything in our house, and we want to use everything we have. We're not registering for fine china, an electric juicer, or a single picture frame. We even gave up on the "Will It Blend?" blender (see the video below if you, too, want to be consumed with consumer lust). But as new cars, houses, and (possibly) babies loom on the horizon, I have to re-learn the difference between wants, needs, and luxuries. And I have to try to wrap my head around the idea that even though the money isn't coming from my paychecks, the two of us are building a life together.
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