The money I made

I set myself to earn X number of money per month by the end of this year. Well, looks like it is achievable. But then, why am I not happy about it? I thought that if I can earn X amount, I can do whatever I had not had a chance to do. But when I finally gets it, it no longer matters to me.

I have the freedom to zap my card whenever I like it. I have a wad of cash at home to pick whenever my wallet is empty. These are provided by the dear hubby. Now, I have the same kind of money, which is printed from the same bank, the same smelly pieces of papers which I earned from what I am doing online.

Yet, there is not thrill to it. Whether it is my money, his money or our money. In fact, lately I am so into the habit of spending US dollars like Malaysian Ringgits. I pay only $12 for the blog gathering. Only $12 freaking dollars! Isn’t that nice? It is so freaking cheap, I bought two extra tickets for two young bloggers whom I do not know nor read their blogs. Someone asked me why? I told him because they asked.

I hate this feelings. Money doesn’t thrill me anymore. Maybe it is time I go up the mountain and meditate and become a nun? Or maybe it has to do with me being over 40? Where there are more interesting things to do than shopping?