I sometimes struggle with priorities. In my head, I fantasize about getting the pick-up truck of my dreams, figuring, “We might not be around much longer anyway, if the nukes start flying, so why not live a little, live life with a certain reckless abandon? Who’s gonna be left to collect the lease payments?”
But the angel in white on the other shoulder, nonplussed yet patient, lays on the guilt. “Sounds like a convenient excuse to me. What about the special people in your life? Is a silly pick-up truck that important to you?”
My answer, depending on the day, is “Yes! A pick-up truck with 4-wheel drive, a vehicle that sits higher on the road and would be better in the winter, and so much more comfortable and practical? Something I’ve had my eye on forever? Are you kidding me? No contest.”
I prefer to file this under my pursuit of happiness. Happiness, at least the American version of it, can encompass more than just the important relationships in your life. Right?