I suddenly got the itch for a new car – pretty much out of the blue. I mean, after all, we just completed an indoor pickleball court… what’s next in line?
That little spark of desire got me thinking about these strange quirks we humans have. We want something so badly – we dream about it, obsess over it, pray for it, Google it until our phones start flooding our social media with nonstop ads.
We even make up reasons why we deserve it… I’ve never had one and always wanted one. It’s an investment. It’s on sale. I deserve one after the week I’ve had. It’s cheaper than therapy. I’ll use it every day. It completes me.
And then the moment we finally get it; the shine wears off faster than a new car smell. Suddenly, we’re on to the next thing. The next goal. The next “wouldn’t it be nice if…”
It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m no different.
Not long after we were married, we went to a friend’s cabin that had a small man-made lake nearby. While we were swimming, I started reminiscing about the summers I spent at my aunt’s cabin – basically from diapers to adulthood. Those were magical memories. When my husband said, “If you want a cabin, start looking.” That was my green light.
It didn’t take long before I was online searching for cabins within two hours of home. As luck would have it – we found the perfect cabin. Our perfect retreat. Sixteen years later, it’s still one of the best decisions we ever made. It’s where memories are made with kids and grandkids.
Then came the desire for a bigger family room. Our house has lots of rooms, but they’re all small. I knew my husband wanted a 3-stall garage, so I came up with the idea to convert the current garage into the family room and add on a 3-stall garage. Win/win!
We got it. We loved it. And we also vowed we’d never remodel, build, or do anything construction-related ever again. The stress was… let’s say… not the best marriage medicine. Of course, the project didn’t stop there. It grew like a toddler on steroids.
Pretty soon the whole house had new siding. Then, a new roof. It was as if the house heard us say “Never again” and chimed in, “You two say that a lot.”
Last summer, on a Sunday afternoon, we were playing pickleball in the man-cave side of the shed – tape on the floor, cracks in the cement, uneven heights – a broken ankle just waiting to happen. We were having a blast with our friends when my husband, after a few glasses of Merlot said, “We should build a pickleball court.”
Nine months later – which we now laugh at as 9 months is nothing – we have a full-blown indoor pickleball court with a kitchen, ping-pong table, basketball hoop, and a beer cooler. Basically, a grown-up playground.
Our family and friends reminded us we said we would never build again after the family-room-garage experience. Well… never say never.
We’ve only had the pickleball court complete for 2 months now, when I get the itch for a new car. I knew it was nonsense, but I started making all the justifications. I like to trade cars about the 5-year mark. My current one was 7. I’d never loved it anyway – I bought it online. Thought the interior was gray. When I picked it up, it was brown. Major disappointment. Relying on a computer monitor for a major purchase? Dumb. How about I read the description?
So I went online “just to look,” which is the biggest lie we tell ourselves. It’s like pickleball players saying “Just one more game.” Not happening.
Now, every ad on FB is a shiny new car.
I mentioned a new car to my husband, who usually supports my whims. Not this time. He flatly said, “No.” That stung, because in the past, he would’ve said, “Honey, whatever makes you happy.” Now, that’s the way to a woman’s heart.
It took me a day or two to get over it, but once I did, I realized something surprising: I was actually glad he said it. I had another debt I needed to take care of first. And it made me stop and ask myself:
Why do we always want something else?
I asked AI that question, and the answer was annoyingly insightful: it’s built into us. Our brains are wired to chase the next thing. We adapt quickly, the high fades, and off we go again.
And it’s not just stuff. When someone we love is dying, we make deals with God like we’re negotiating a lower Dish Network contract.
“Dear God, if you spare my loved one, I’ll never swear again. I’ll go to church every Sunday. I’ll devote my life to you.”
We mean it. We really do. But when the crisis passes, life slides back to normal. Not because we’re bad people – because we’re human. Desperate promises come from desperate hearts.
My husband once told me a story about a friend who was asked, “Are you happily married?”
The man replied, “I’m content.”
“But are you happy?”
“I’m content.”
At the time, I thought, No, no, no. You should be thrilled! You should worship the ground your spouse walks on! You should be unable to breathe without them!
I don’t feel that way anymore.
Contentment sounds like a warm blanket. A peaceful place. Honestly, it’s a place we should strive for. A place without friction, fighting, or constant striving. A place where “It’s going to be OK” isn’t a consolation prize, but a blessing.
What’s wrong with being OK?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Maybe the real secret isn’t chasing the next thing. Maybe it’s learning to sit in the soft, steady glow of “OK.” Maybe contentment isn’t settling – it’s arriving. Appreciating what we already have is where the real magic lives.
While typing this, it occurred to me that when we were younger, we never would have accepted advice to “just be content.” Get real! We were wired for the chase – busy striving, climbing, achieving. But with age comes wisdom, and the word contentment starts to make sense. It doesn’t mean sacrificing. It’s not giving up. It’s learning that calm isn’t boring – it’s a luxury we were too young to appreciate.
So let’s raise a glass:
Here’s to wanting things – because it means we’re alive.
And here’s to appreciating what we already have – because that’s where the real joy hides.
Here’s to contentment – not the boring kind, but the warm, steady, “it’s going to be OK” kind.
May we always have enough to dream about, and enough gratitude to love the life we’re already living.
Cheers to being OK – and realizing that OK is actually pretty wonderful.
