When is Enough Enough?

When is enough enough? I’ve been asking that question a lot lately. In a land of plenty, in a life blessed with plenty, when — and what — is enough?

My questioning began benignly. Each year, my husband has a business trip to Europe. I join him, and after his meetings, we do some additional touring. We’ve gone on some great trips and learned a lot about the countries we’ve visited.

I’ve had a lifetime love affair with all things foreign. I grew up in a NYC neighborhood filled with Hungarians, Germans, Romanians, Puerto Ricans, and even a few Anglo-Saxons thrown in for good measure!

I also had a beloved, much older, almost adopted brother from India who spoke of being a global (versus country-specific) citizen, and that concept resonated deeply with me even as a child. Prakash, who was a renowned international human rights attorney, was a profound influence on my career and outlook. And in terms of my career, a large part of it focused on human rights, both abroad and in the US.

In all, I’ve been lucky enough to have traveled to 51 countries, and I still have ambitions to grow that list — grow it a lot!

So, this year, when my husband and I started planning our annual trip, it came as a big surprise to us both that we couldn’t figure out where we wanted to go. We diagnosed the problem as a slight case of “Been there, done that.”

Now, to state the obvious, that notion is 100% ridiculous. With 193 countries in the world (based on UN membership), there are certainly more than a “few” left to see.

So, what was going on? Were we reacting to the political instability in so many parts of the world? Were we feeling our age? Our achy joints? Were we jaded? Or simply tired from the “work” it takes to plan a fun trip? A little of all of the above, I suppose.

Then, as part of that trip, I set to work planning my semi-annual pilgrimage home to NYC to catch the spring season of new Broadway and off-Broadway shows before the Tony Awards.

Even planning for that adventure, which usually ignites an energy jolt in me akin to that of a Big Apple marathon runner, barely registered a blip on the excitement meter.

What the heck is going on? It isn’t clear.

Even as I pondered the answer to my odd travel and theater ennui, I did something positive; I went on the wagon!

No, I’m not a tippler. I’m a shopper, an excessive one. So, I took a No Personal Purchases Pledge.

This pledge, like the travel-theater blahs, is, I believe, a reaction to excess — traveling too much, spending too much, and so on.

In terms of my “no spend” month, I vowed not to make impulsive, unnecessary purchases. I still bought groceries and household goods, still picked up prescriptions and such. But if an item fell into the category of a mere “want” versus a legitimate “need,” I didn’t open my wallet or hit the “buy now” button on the computer.

It wasn’t easy. My yen for instant, gimme-gimme gratification was palpable. I’d look longingly out the window each time I saw an Amazon truck drive by without stopping. I literally fought the urge to wave!

Ten days into my “No Purchase” pledge, I applied a shopper’s equivalent of a nicotine patch. I created a wish list! Pathetic, I know. What was on that list? Silly stuff — a pair of red Keds, Scented Snow Cone earrings (!?), and about 10 books to add to my already bursting-at-the-seams bookshelves.

On Day 20 I cracked. I bought two books and a “just because” present for my niece. I claimed the books are “research” for the novel I’m writing, but I’m backlogged seven weighty tomes, so there really was no rush on the two new ones.

Anyway, the rush I felt was as glorious as when I gobble down half a chocolate cake, and yes, speaking of excess, yes, I’ve been known to do that!

Wisely, I chose February, the shortest month of the year, for my shop-less ordeal. And while it was impressive how much time and money I saved by avoiding the Internet and stores, the lesson learned was short-lived.

Sadly, I am already back to my spendy ways, although now it is tempered with a generous dose of guilt as I ponder such deep questions as: How many short-sleeved crop tee shirts do I need? How many Sweaty Betty sweatshirts can I wear on my one sweaty back? And how many pairs of sneakers does non-athletic me require?

At Passover, we sing Dayenu, “it would have been enough,” to express joy and gratitude for miracles performed long ago.

Do blessed, but blasé contemporary consumers like me need a secular version? I think so. Maybe staying home and enjoying what I already have is exactly what I need this year.

Yes, indeed, Dayenu in deed!