Last week my friend Angelique told me details and showed me pictures of her fabulous trip to Las Vegas -- here's Angelique at Cirque Du Soleil, here's Angelique eating Curry Chicken on the roof of Mandaly Bay, here's Angelique sleeping until noon. This week she showed me the paper cut she received while opening her disconnect notice from the cable company and told me she was working lats so I should go to the movies without her. What a difference a week makes. Last week it was curry and Cirque, this week it's injury and work. I had to wonder if it was worth it? I know Angelique spent all last year scrimping and saving every quarter she found in the sofa cushions and at the bottom her purse to pursue happiness in a distant place. She forwent formagio with friends and movies with mates. She made her money, made her plane and made some memories. Now she has returned to her usual life and the vicious circle continues in preparations for next year's adventure -- work, work, work, PLAY -- work, work, work, PLAY. Do three works always equal one PLAY? Can we have fun without spending our life savings, or does money truly buy happiness? Is a week in the penthouse worth a year in the poorhouse?
No comments:
Post a Comment