Why I'm Rich

I've been reading a lot lately on personal finance. It's a form of self-torture, I think, because it's January (the longest month known to teachers) and we're also dealing with some issues stemming from the DH's former employer's decision to not pay their employees.

But I digress.

After a friend and I watched an Oprah episode about poverty in America, I swore I wouldn't complain again about the status (or rather, non-status) of my renovations. Because even if it doesn't seem like it some days, the unfinished state of my home is temporary. For those on Oprah's show? Not so temporary.

While we were watching that show, we discovered that according to income statistics, my friend and I are rich.

Yeah, I thought. I'm rich. And the Pope is really a Southern Baptist.

Then I read up on net worth following a visit to Make Love Not Debt. My net worth? Not so rich.

Okay, so income level and net worth are two very different ways to define a person's wealth. It all depends on how one looks at wealth, right?

Right.

And I've decided that money issues aside, I am rich. Want to know why?

1) I can still call my mother.
2) I have fabulous, loyal friends.
3) I like my small-town life.
4) The Monsters don't go to bed hungry.
5) I'm educated -- although I'm still paying for said education.
6) I love my career, couldn't imagine doing anything else.
7) The DH adores me. (Why, I don't know sometimes. I can't be the easiest person to live with.)
8) I have a dog. And a cat. (Both of which, Larissa, we rescued as strays.) The dog actually minds. The cat merely graces us with her royal presence.
9) I've seen my name on a book cover. Well, a picture of said cover, but I should be able to hold said book later this year.
10) The Monsters adore me, too, and I'm able to offer them the things they need, even if I choose not to offer them everything they want.

And even though I'm pretty sure I've blogged on this before, I don't think one can ever count her blessings too often.