It’s too bad inflation has reared its ugly head. I was having so much fun with the pandemic rationale for splurging: Think of all the money I saved in 2020.
It’s one of the handiest things to come out of the pandemic – especially for someone raised by Depression-era parents – and I’ve gotten better and better at it.
The Theory is not altogether untenable. 2020 was a great year for unintended savings. I didn’t fly anywhere on vacation, didn’t take any road trips, didn’t eat out at fancy restaurants, or even pick up a latte. And I’ve become a pro at mentally tallying up all the theoretical savings without benefit of any actual figures.
Sometimes I throw in 2021 too, when I only visited relatives I could reach via road trips or on short non-stop flights. And what the heck. In 2022, I’m still staying in the USA. This provides a marvelous two years and counting of theoretical savings to justify just about any sort of splurge.
The cruise brochures that seem to be flooding my mailbox make it that much easier.
Granted, I’ve never taken a cruise and am still Covid-fearful of them, but if I were to schedule one, the cost would be a whopper. Even a little 8-day river cruise up the Rhine on the Viking anniversary special would be $1,999 (thankfully not a full $2K) per person, and the 17-day all-inclusive voyage from Vienna to Bucharest would lighten my wallet by $5,299. That’s for a standard stateroom. Never mind the explorer suite with wraparound veranda and French balcony.
“Wow!” I tell myself. “Think of how many pairs of crop pants that would buy! How many new pairs of running shoes! Why am I even hesitating?”
One of my greatest successes in applying The Theory has been my new porch fan, which doubles as a heater and an air filter.
Normally, I might have relied simply on the belief that it would extend the use of my back porch for several weeks each year. But this year, when I hit Submit on the online order form I was thinking Think of all the money I saved in 2020 and, as a bonus Think how much more comfortable I’ll feel, believing that the air my guests breathe is Covid-free. I did not even feel guilty about paying full price for the sleek upright rotating gizmo that connected to an app on my phone. It was still less than the five days I didn’t spend in Santa Fe when the new variant came out.
My most notable application of The Theory, though, came during the summer power outage that left me with long stretches without lights, AC and internet from one Tuesday afternoon until early the following Thursday morning.
Miserable and facing a second night of no power in a stifling bedroom, I didn’t think twice – and probably had my Depression-era parents rolling over in their graves – before I headed to Expedia on my almost-dead phone. Guiltlessly, at least in that moment, I searched for a room in a location that looked outage-free and checked myself in, thinking of – you got it.
I felt grateful in that moment for The Theory and the privilege of exiting the outage with a blast of cold air when it was nearly 100 degrees outside. With only a smidgeon of guilt, I savored my cold salad accompanied by a chilled glass of wine, charged my devices, and watched TV. I didn’t get to do this in Santa Fe, I reminded myself.
But then I did go out and buy myself a battery-operated fan for the next time, not because of all the money I saved in 2020 but maybe because those childhood economic theories had more time to take root.
We did, after all, save the holiday wrapping paper and iron it for the next time.
Copyright 2022 Pat Snyder
