I know someone who is always complaining about money – about taxes – about how this person is sick of paying & paying taxes – and how unfair it is that the apartment in (insert big city) is going to be taxed because no one is living in it, and how unfair it is, because the kids like to stay in it every once in awhile. And how this person would like to buy a new (insert car, shoes, watch – whatever – ) but how this person simply cannot afford it. How retirement is going to be wretched. How, all this person wants to do is help the children and grandchildren (have them get jobs, maybe?) – and how…well, every gripe possible about how difficult it is to make ends meet. This person is one of the 1%. Seriously. Don’t laugh. This person owns a house, two apartments, a thriving business – and this person pretends to be poor. Why? I have no idea. I get hives when the vet bill comes, I can’t breathe when I see a parking ticket. I panic when my husband is out of work. And I see people far, far worse off than I am – I know I’m not a 1%, or even a 25%, but I know we’re damn lucky because aside the vet bills and parking tickets (which push us into the red) we’re keeping our heads above water. And I never, ever complain about finances. Who does? My wealthy friends. It’s like it’s all they ever think about is money. Why? Maybe that’s why they’re rich? It’s terribly important to them? So important, they have to pretend they are running out of money all the time. Or maybe it helps them feel normal. Maybe there is a niggling guilt in the back of their minds that says, I have no worries, but my friends do, so I have to pretend I have worries, so they will like me... Let me just say, I don’t care how much you make, as long as you aren’t holding up banks and stuffing money into Swiss bank accounts. Frankly, money means nothing to me, which is probably why I’m not wealthy. It’s also why I look forward to shopping at the thrift (I love it) and I laugh about flying Air “So Cheap you can’t take luggage, are separated from your travel companion, and get no food“, I think it’s fun swap for things and trade, instead of paying, and I love looking through junk shops, recycling, and having a picnic in a public park. I love simple things. And it doesn’t bother me if you love brand names, have a million dollars in the bank, and need to fly first class. If you’re nice, I’ll like you anyway. You don’t have to pretend to be poor to make me like you. It just makes me feel sorry for you – it’s like you don’t realize how good you have it.