This week, I cleared space on my deck. I took measurements for my hot tub. Not because I’m remotely anywhere close to buying it. It was a desperately sad little act I wanted to participate in, otherwise known as “dreaming.” I spent the better part of a day researching what would fit and what wouldn’t collapse the deck and make my wife very very very angry. She’s thinks there are better things to spend money on than putting hundreds of gallons of warm water on our deck. But I don’t see her digging through dirty, musty stuffed animals at Goodwill to buy a farmhouse copper sink for herself.
Besides, I want something concrete to work towards — not just an abstract, hazy image of a “Hot Tub.” I just want something real that I can buy and be happy forever, completely fullfilled and released from the vicious cycle of consumption and desire.
There are two kinds of hot tubs: ones that cost $2000 worth of electrical work to run new wiring and breaker boxes, and ones that you can just plug into a normal outlet. Since there isn’t anything sexy about working hard and saving up two-grand to pay an electrician, I’ve began leaning towards the kind that you can just plug in. They won’t provide hardcore hydrotherapy — and it’s not going to be my luxorious dream hot tub overlooking the mountains. It’s going to be in my backyard, overlooking the plastic Little Tikes playhouse and turtle sandbox. A small plug and play tub will do me fine.
It looks like I can get one for $3000. I’ve decided if I can hustle $1500 to pay up front, I can finance the rest in affordable monthy payments. I sold a few more small, unexciting items on eBay this week. I sold the Star Trek toys that I wrote about in Thrift Store Monday #001. The Catzilla mug I bought in that run still sits. I will have that thing until the day I die. Unless a mysterious benefactor here wants to buy it.
I’m at around…drum roll…. 7% of my goal.
At the thrift store this week, I found this Mario. My wife assumed I was going to keep it, complimenting it. “It’s a good Mario,” she said,
It’s a really good Mario. Just look at it. A good ‘un. A great Mario. A sizeable Mario. Like catching a good fish. A fine specimen of Mario. I’d be dead inside if I didn’t want to keep it. It would look great adorning my shelf with old Nintendo games and consoles. It would be the crown jewel of Marios. He’s big, twenty inches tall, a collectible World of Nintendo figure.
But he’s also a “worth $25 profit” Mario, so off he goes to the another forever home, where he will be a very good Mario to someone else.