I am funny about spending money on myself. I will buy something that is for the kitchen like a microplane grater—which really is for me as I am the one who is obsessed with lemon zest—but only after deliberating on it for ages and only after I got my job tutoring. The money I make from tutoring goes for buying things I’ve always wanted but can’t justify paying that much money for. The microplane grater costs £20. That seemed outrageous, but I used my tutoring money and I love it and use it every few days. But I find it really hard to spend on myself. I will let my underwear be falling into rags rather than pay £12.99 for a new bra. Again with tutoring money I bought some new bras but only when the others were hanging on by a thread. Literally. I was *this* close from having my boob pop out in public. I just never feel worthy enough to splash out on myself. That money could go for something we really need.
I have no problem buying things for the two of US. Trips to plays or museums or holidays. We have spent hundreds of pounds on original artwork. But these are a joint purchase and bring us both joy. I just have a real difficult time spending on ME.
We just came back from 4 fabulous days in London. Spiderman found us a little "studio flat" hotel room to rent with a kitchen for less than a regular hotel would cost a night. It was out in Earl’s Court—right on the line between zone one and two and it was charming. Slightly run down (but no more than the place we live in now) and it was being renovated. Our room was freshly painted, had a comfortable bed, a kitchen about the size of the one we have now and one of those fabulous showers with the wide head that feels like rain. The one thing it seemed to be lacking was kitchen equipment. I had meticulously planned our meals to be cheap and easy and spelt pasta had featured on the menu twice. There was only one pot—a tiny pot (like the size you would heat the sauce in not cook the pasta) and we had a momentary panic. There were also only plates and no bowls. Goodbye cereal. But we asked the incredibly nice man who said he would try to find some somewhere else in the hotel (robbing Peter to pay Paul) but we made a plan that we could eat rice if need be as rice would cook in the small pot even if pasta would not. But the nice chap came through and when we came home we had a larger pot and two bowls.
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