I’m Thankful That I Can’t Have Everything I Want

Every time I walk into WalMart, I see a fleece-lined purple hoodie that I think looks cozy, warm, and adorable. It’s cold here in PA beyond simple hoodie weather, but it would be a lovely thing to wear around the house before the heat comes up in the morning. I can imagine myself wearing it next March or April when I can shed my parka for spring outer wear.

But, I have a hoodie. I bought a fleece-lined red one last winter, and it’s… fine. I mean, the color isn’t as pretty, and you can tell that it’s been through the washer and dryer a few times. The thing is, I lost the drawstring at some point, so really, it has lost one essential function of a hoodie: to keep my ears protected from the wind by virtue of the string tied tightly under my chin.

So, since my old hoodie is missing a drawstring, I definitely need the new purple one.

Except, of course, I don’t. I just really want it.

I love this jacket that my mom gave me, but it’s just not “the” hoodie sweatshirt.

On the subject of having and wanting, when I glimpsed the object of my desire today at WalMart, I was wearing this delightful, purple, fuzzy, reversible jacket that my mom found for me at a great end-of-season sale. I am happy every time I wear it. It feels good, it looks good. It’s everything that a not-quite-winter jacket needs to be… but it’s not comfy like a hoodie sweatshirt would be. It’s great for wearing in the car, but it wouldn’t be something to slip on before I make breakfast on a winter morning and wear as I check my email.

I was contemplating this today, considering what negotiating it would take with the budget to afford it, but even though I’m kind of obsessed with this sweatshirt, it’s only about third on my current wish list, behind fuzzy purple pajama pants (sense a pattern?) and Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing on DVD.

When I worked full time, I would have thought nothing of curling up on the couch in my fuzzy purple pajamas, watching a new DVD. A new sweatshirt would be easily dismissed as a necessary part of my business wardrobe. Now, waiting for payday, wearing too-short sweatpants I bought at Goodwill, I know that when I do get the PJs, I’m going to be ever so much more thankful for them than if I’d gotten them the first time I saw them.

I’m thankful that I can’t have everything I want. Having to choose how to spend money, having to wait sometimes for something I want—that has a way of making a person appreciate things a lot more. I still don’t know for sure if I’m going to pick the pajamas or the hoodie, but whichever one I pick, I will be very thankful for it.