Something I have come to appreciate after writing about so many of these Days is how open they are to interpretation. Some of the days have websites with suggested ways to celebrate/observe them; most involve activities like “read about it on the internet” or “talk to your friends about it,” or “meditate on it.”

I suppose you could do those things to observe Splurge Day, but it seems to me that just going out and, you know, splurging might be more fun.

But here, again, things are open to interpretation. In the course of my own lifetime, my definition of what constitutes a splurge has changed dramatically. At one point, getting a Nestle Crunch bar was the height of extravagance to me. Then I moved up to splurging by drinking alcohol that had a name people recognized.

When I was in my mid-20s and basically a 401(k) payment away from living paycheck to paycheck, my car got stolen and my parents came to my rescue. I assumed I’d get one of their cast-offs (my family always has a bunch of spare cars lying around; my widowed mom who lives alone currently has four at her disposal). Instead, they took me out and laid out a chunky down payment to get me a brand-new bright red Saturn that I loved to bits and happily made the teeny monthly payments required of me. Total splurge. 

My standard of living has improved in the intervening 30 years, I am happy to say. Taco Bell is no longer a splurge, unless you are referring to calories. Most of my splurges these days involve travel. We stay at hotels with carpeting and no fist-sized holes in the walls. We take the expensive walking tour with the guide who knows their stuff. We eat at the fancy restaurant.

That said—my pal and I did just go get pedicures a couple weekends, and that was definitely an extravagance.

What’s your splurge comfort level?