by Celeste Lindell of Average Jane

It all started when my husband was in his mid-40s. He’d spent most of
his life as a musician, but had recently become a regional sales
representative for a wholesaler. That meant he’d cut his hair short
and switched his wardrobe to khaki pants and a polo shirt in place of
the jeans and black t-shirts he’d always worn before.

The job paid quite well and because we keep separate bank accounts and
only pool money to pay bills, he suddenly had a lot more disposable
income than he’d ever had before. He’d grown up poor and we all know
how little musicians make, so the opportunity to buy some of the
luxuries he’d always wanted became too hard to resist.

It began with cars. We’re friends with a guy who’s a mechanic
specializing in British cars, and my husband returned from visiting
him one day and parked a Jaguar in our garage. It hadn’t been
particularly expensive, but that’s probably because it was a complete
piece of junk. As in: “If we’re taking the Jaguar somewhere, we’d
better make sure to bring comfortable shoes for the walk back.”

Around this same time, my husband started collecting vintage watches.
The first time I saw a Rolex appear on his wrist, I had a fit. We
might have been doing okay money-wise, but not well enough to waste
money on something like that!

Eventually, I had no choice but to make peace with the watch thing.
I’d forgotten what a wheeler-dealer my husband can be when he wants
something. It was the same way with musical gear and drums before the
watches.

Jaguars gave way to BMWs, which gave way to Porsches. All were used
and relatively old, but the expenses added up – particularly when it
came to parts and repairs.

I was never exactly happy with the situation, but as a couple of my
friends pointed out, at least he wasn’t gambling, drinking or
womanizing. In comparison to those things, watches and cars didn’t
seem so bad. Still, I couldn’t help thinking of all of the money he
was spending. Whenever I had a windfall, I put it into home
improvements. His extra money was more or less wasted.

That era ended when my husband’s company downsized and laid off more
than half of its sales force, including him. He went back to playing
in bands, sold the watches and cars one by one, and bought a nice,
sensible Honda Element to carry his drums.

In retrospect, I think some of the excesses came from his unhappiness
at trading music for a job that paid a lot but was personally
unfulfilling. Now he’s back to playing music and has opened a
recording studio. His hair is long again, he’s wearing jeans and
t-shirts every day, and he’s lucky to have enough ready cash to cover
his bills. But you know what? We’re both happier than ever.