Saint Over-Save

A childhood friend's mom put together a huge Easter extravaganza for all us kids. We had a fashion show of Sunday best and bonnets followed by an egg hunt where we tore through the yard like Whoopi Goldberg in the Lion Kind (read: hyenas). There was a lot of tiny plastic booty, but there was also one very special prize: a giant white chocolate rabbit. And who do you think found it? That's right, the little kid who dug through a bush in  her grandmother's old mink shawl (read: me). I was supremely proud of my win. The rabbit sat on the kitchen table for a while, but when I was prompted to eat it, I couldn't. I wanted to save it for a really special occasion. I mean, really really special. The thing was eventually moved to above the china cabinet. Then it was eventually over a year old and thrown in the trash.

This was a common habit of mine as a child. I saved. I saved money in Altoid tins and Dean's milk bottles. I saved all my best Halloween loot "in case." I owned three blank books and never wrote in them because what if I got a really good idea, better than my usual? This might be considered over-saving.

Two days ago I smelled something familiar on State street. I couldn't place it for a while, but the scent stuck with me. It was this specific Bath and Body shade! A shade I knew well because for Christmas one year my mom got me dissolvable bath bubbles with the same smell. I really looked forward to using the gel bubbles. "One day I will take the sweetest stinking bath ever," I plotted. I would open the boxed container and sniff the soapy orbs. I would do this quite often actually. I never took the bath.

But. I felt so peaceful and wistful on the street niffing that memory. I knew it so well because my hopes were so high. I've heard the happiest you are is actually right before a vacation--not during. I don't think the over-save is always a crime.