Things

In those days we made a lot of impulse purchases. In clothing stores and electronic goods shops. New things made us feel good... The idea, perhaps, was that bringing something fresh and shiny and perfect and clean into our lives would banish the gathering sense of its staleness. I could not be old with so many new things around me.

But like all addictions it eventually lost its efficacy. And we were just doing it even though it no longer worked. The new MP3 players kept playing the same old songs. The new shoes took us along the same old routes and then brought us back as tired as always. And no matter what sunglasses I wore, they saw the same thing.

So I became sceptical of spending. Long losing bouts with being broke galvanised this, but even when I had money again, I was reluctant to let it go. I was no longer ready to let it chase the vain hope of my reinvigoration. I wanted to horde it, keep it close, to save it and wait for that one perfect commodity to show up in the mall. Shiny, gleaming, plastic-wrapped, seductive and ready. I wanted to make sure I would have enough money to buy it.

But that was as vain as spending. Because no one was ever going to stock what I wanted. We all know money can’t buy it.