que sera, sera
When I was just a little girl I told my mother that I would be rich, that I would marry a millionaire. I said it so often and with such commitment, belief and sense of entitlement that my mother was convinced that I would marry into money. These days, when she wistfully reminds me of my certainty, I tell her that I have married a proto-millionaire, the best kind since TA will never think I married him for his money! And for his part, TA has always said that he’s going to be wealthy, he even set a date – which comes due sometime next year. TA asked me the other day, if we were rich would you have a facial every week. This question highlights two things – we both desperately want to be wealthy and I’m often low maintenance to the point of scummy-ness, in fact I regularly run the risk of having my girl license revoked. After answering TA’s question with, “Yes, of course!” I started thinking about how our lives would be different if we really truly were won-the-rollover-jackpot, jaw-droppingly wealthy. Not just thinking – I wrote a lengthy, lengthy series of notes on the subject, which is what I always do when I'm trying to formalise a vision or the path I want my life to take. And it made me realise, after reading it through several times, that so much of what I associated with wealth was achievable without it, but not without a little discipline. That what was needed for, say, 50 per cent of my ‘wealthy desires’ to be met was only time management, planning or the creative spark. So either these desires aren’t all that strong after all or I’m just using the lack of funds as a smokescreen. I also started thinking about ways to improve my sludgy self – harking back to that feeling flat issue and I think I’ve come up with a plan to fulfil that 50 per cent and make me feel more rounded. I’ve begun implementing the plan and just maybe see some benefits, but more on that another day.