Your Stool is Worth HOW Much?

My doctor was running late. (Aren’t they always?) So I found myself sitting in a waiting room with nothing good to read. Out of pure desperation, I began flipping through a fashion and style magazine. I figured that would be good for a laugh, and I was right.

It never ceases to amaze me how much people are willing to spend (read: waste) to be on the cutting edge of fashion. I’m sorry, but there are really only so many ways to make pants and shirts and shoes. It’s all been done before. A famous label added to a time-honored tradition of clothing doesn’t render it superior. You can pay a fortune for clothes, unless, like me, your priorities lie elsewhere.

To a certain extent, I feel sorry for people who think “stuff” is important. I inwardly chuckle at people who say, “He who has the most toys wins.” Actually, no. He who has the most toys has less money to spend on life experiences.

Life experience. That’s what’s really valuable. Making memories with people that you love. Seeing new places. Doing new things. Learning. Helping others. Making the world a better place. These things may not take up space in your closet, but they are priceless.

Stuff, on the other hand, wears out, gets outgrown, falls out of favor, takes up space, and will become one more thing to add to the Goodwill bag when the people who survive you are left with the unpleasant task of sorting through your mounds of crap.

While skimming that magazine, I was thinking that I pity those people with their priorities skewed toward accumulation. But then I flipped the page and saw an advertisement for a 3 footed stool. Granted, it was a beautiful stool, but it costs $1,900.00.

That’s when I nearly lost it, right there in the waiting room. In what world must you be living that you think a foot stool is worth throwing away 1,900 US dollars to obtain? It’s. A. Stool. A stool! Come on, people!

How can you be that selfish? How can you buy a stool like that when people are sleeping in the streets? How can you say to yourself, “I know that many children only avoid total starvation because they participate in a school lunch program, but hey, I need a stool.”

And when all is said and done, that stool will wind up in the same place your other stool does: in a landfill somewhere. Let’s face it: you can’t take it with you. That’s all stuff is, really: garbage that just hasn’t reached its final destination yet.

Wake up, people. Please. I’m begging you.


Buy my book. Enjoy it. Then donate it to a library.

7 thoughts on “Your Stool is Worth HOW Much?

  1. I didn’t see it much in India, where we mostly buy stuff for its role in our life, rather than for decoration (and almost everything in India is so cheap). But in Thailand, there’s a real culture of owning the most beautiful (aka pricey) items. Some stores here have security and only allow 3 people in at a time, and only if you’re dressed a certain way. I don’t get it. Maybe it’s cause I was raised by Aid and Development workers? One notebook cost $300 in that store. I felt a sense of horror and also despair.

  2. Angiportus

    Another here who acquires things for use or beauty and not status. I would rather the world *didn’t* know what I have, though I suspect it wouldn’t bring them much…If I need another stool, I’ll scrounge one out of an alley, or build one.
    That about “not going to love you” is a bit problematic for me, for several reasons–I got sick of hearing about love long before I was out of grade school, partly because it seemed only one kind was ever celebrated, and also the people who claimed to love me perpetrated some egregious abuses in its name.
    When a person gets some serious esthetic pleasure from something, they might when young think that it loved them first–or at least that there is *something* mysterious going on. Even if it is as useless as parents turn out to be at protecting them. Several decades on, the mystery still shines, and talk of love still palls. Even though I have found people worthy of my friendship–they are the ones who don’t hassle me about my personal life, and don’t touch me without permission.

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