$3 americanos

This weekend, I'm taking a vacation from my "vacation."

A week with the parental units was challenging. Why aren't I married yet. Why don't I, instead of renting, buy a house. Why haven't I bought a car. How much have I saved for retirement?

I hadn't even gotten my luggage into the van yet.

"You are 30 years old now-"

"WHA? I'M TWO-WENTY. SIX. DAD."

But, I ate well. I slept well. I bought a label maker from Wal-Mart. All in all, a fairly decent trip. However, I know this marks a turning point. The older I'll get, the harder the questions will be to dodge, and the more childish I'll behave.

So I might as well act on my childish fantasies while I'm still, ahem, 30. I'm flying to NYC this weekend and spending money that will never see an IRA account. I'm going to eat out for every meal and buy $3 americanos. I'll spend too much on a hotel, rack up high interest on my plastic, and overpay for a cute pair of shoes.

I'll purge myself from the guilt of spending by telling myself this is for the well-being of my mental health.