This post is adapted from YNAB’s twice-monthly newsletter, Loose Change.
“Miss Ashley!” The senior Southern gentleman standing before me reached out and touched the edge of the iPad I was taking notes on, forcing me to stop and meet his gaze.
“I know to you, it’s just a bathroom. I reckon you see worse damage than this all the time. Probably hear lots of real sad stories. But to me, it’s where my wife starts and ends her day. It’s where she gets ready to go out and face the world, where she gets pretty for church and ready for bed. It’s a small thing to you, but it’s a big thing to me—for her to have that space again. And I thank you for helping us make that possible. What you’re doing is important, even when it doesn’t seem like it.”
I was working in disaster assistance at the time, estimating costs to make homes whole again. He was right: the damage was minor, comparatively speaking. It was the end of the day; I was burnt out and in a hurry to return to the dreary hotel room that served as my temporary home at the time. Everything about that moment was unremarkable… everything except his perspective.
I learned a lot from that job, but two things stuck with me:
- People rise to their best when circumstances are at their worst.
- The stuff that ends up mattering the most is often unexpected.
It wasn’t uncommon to meet people who had lost everything—recounting their losses with a calm, almost detached stoicism. But then, without warning, they’d break down over a 20-year-old couch, more comfortable than anything you could buy today, or a punch bowl passed down from their grandmother—something they’d never even thought about or used.
No one ever cried over luxury goods, electronics, or a car. The price tag of an item never (and I mean never) determined its emotional significance.Those experiences, along with that simple yet remarkable show of gratitude from that gentleman, changed not only how I see everyday people and the ordinary things that fill our lives, but also how I choose to spend my money.
I recently received a small windfall and knew I wanted to put it toward home improvements. There was plenty to tackle: fascia in need of repair, paint to touch up, light fixtures to update. A new vanity for my bathroom (which only I use) felt like an extravagance, but I was often frustrated about the lack of drawers and the clutter it created.
Then I thought of the man who made me see a bathroom as more than just a functional space. It holds layers of comfort, beauty, and care. So I bought the vanity—my first truly spendful purchase.
A slightly girly, freestanding unit with a Carrara marble top, a fancy faucet, and soft-close drawers. This relatively small improvement brings me peace, clarity, and joy every day; feelings I might have overlooked if he hadn’t reminded me that the simplest spaces hold deeper meaning.
Because in the end, it’s never just a couch. Never just a punch bowl. Never just a bathroom.
And the way we choose to spend? It’s never just money.
Your money is a reflection of you. Create a plan to give your dollars the care they deserve with YNAB—it’s free for 34 days.
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