A lot of big, tragic and important things have happened to this wonderful country of ours since April 2014. None of which I have covered. I was too busy writing about hungover parenting, ancient philosophy and my dog Colin.
Out of the 536 columns I have written, 27 were about that guy. Far too few. He is such a good boy, he deserves an article a week.
Today is the end of an era for me, and whenever these final events pop up in our lives, we can’t help but think about the ultimate end.
Everything we do, we will one day do for the last time. That’s why you have to enjoy things while they are around. It’s not just big events like leaving a job, house or loved one either. Whatever moment you happen to be in now, you will never get it back, and you don’t know how many more you have.
Everything we do in life, from eating pizza to spending time with the people we love, to driving, writing, drinking or breathing, we will one day experience for the final time. It might happen tomorrow. This can be either a depressing or an inspiring thought, depending on how you look at it.
A few years back in this column, I interviewed professor of philosophy William B Irvine, of Wright State University, Ohio, on this very topic. He put it this way on a Zoom call: “Recognition of the impermanence of everything in life can invest the things we do with a significance and intensity that would otherwise be absent. The only way we can be truly alive is if we make it our business periodically to entertain thoughts of the end.”
Today’s column is very meaningful to me because it is my last. Like the last night with a lover before she goes overseas. And just like a lover, there have been some half-arsed efforts put in from me over the years. Last week, for example, I spent 750 words moaning about how bad my cricket team is. But the truth is that any of my columns could have been the final. If I had reminded myself every week for the past 10 years that the end is inevitable, I may have been more grateful for having a column and appreciated writing them all as much as I am this one.
While everything we do could have more meaning with a focus on finitude, some things are inherently more worthwhile than others. There is no doubt my column “The pros and cons of wearing Speedos” from November 2022 was less meaningful than most things in this world. That was a waste of everyone’s time. So, if we only have so much time, how do we pick the best things to do?
Well, Oliver Burkeman, the author of Four Thousand Weeks – Time Management For Mortals, suggested this to me in a 2022 column: “Ask yourself, does this choice enlarge me? You usually know on some unspoken level if it does. That’s a good way to distinguish between options.”
With that in mind, I don’t feel great about my 2018 article on “New Zealand’s best hole”. That didn’t enlarge anyone.
There will be people reading this column right now who have loved my writing in the Herald and are sad to see it end. Others will have hated it and are glad to see me go. Many won’t have any opinion at all. But for those in the first camp, I have good news. I have a book coming out on May 28 called A Life Less Punishing – 13 Ways To Love The Life You Got (Allen and Unwin Book Publishers). It’s a deep dive into the history, philosophy and science of not wasting our time lost in anger, loneliness, humiliation, stress, fear, boredom and all the other ways we find to not enjoy perfectly good lives. It’s available for pre-order right now (google it if you’re interested).
A Life Less Punishing took me two years to write and is equivalent in words to 100 of these columns. Which would be a complete nightmare for those in the hate camp, but as I say, great news for those who want more.
Anyway, thanks to the Herald for having me, thanks to the lovely people who make an effort to say nice things to me about my column nearly every day and thanks to the universe for every single second we get.
Bless!
Husband Chooses First Class with His Mom—Wait Until You Hear His Wife’s Epic Revenge
My husband, Clark, booked first-class tickets for himself and his mom, leaving me and our kids in economy. But I wasn’t going to let that slide. I made sure his “luxury” flight came with some turbulence, turning the trip into a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
I’m Sophie, and Clark is one of those workaholics who thinks his job is the most important thing in the world. I get it, he works hard, but being a mom isn’t a walk in the park either! So, here’s what happened.
We were going on a family vacation, and Clark booked our tickets. When we got to the airport, I realized he and his mom were flying first class, while I was left with the kids in economy. I felt embarrassed and angry that he didn’t think of me or the kids.
Instead of sulking, I decided to make things uncomfortable for him. I sent the kids up to first class every few minutes. “Go ask Daddy for a snack,” or “Tell Grandma you want to sit with her.” The kids didn’t stop, and soon, Clark’s peaceful flight turned into chaos. His first-class luxury wasn’t so relaxing anymore.
By the end of the flight, Clark wasn’t as smug. Lesson learned: if you’re going to leave your wife and kids in economy, don’t expect a smooth flight!
Oh boy, was I wrong.
As we got to the airport, I asked Clark where our seats were, juggling our toddler and a diaper bag in the chaotic airport. Clark was busy on his phone, barely looking up. “Oh, about that…” he mumbled.
I felt uneasy. “What do you mean, ‘about that’?”
He finally looked up, giving me a sheepish grin I’ve learned to dread. “Well, I managed to upgrade me and Mom to first class. You know how she is on long flights, and I really need to rest.”
Wait, just the two of them? I stared at him, waiting for a joke that didn’t come.
“Let me get this straight. You and your mother are in first class, and I’m in economy with both kids?”
Clark shrugged like it was no big deal. “Oh, come on, it’s just a few hours, Soph. You’ll be fine.”
Then his mom, Nadia, showed up with her designer luggage, smiling. “Oh, Clark, are we ready for our luxurious flight?” She smirked at me, and I swear I could have melted from her gaze.
They left me with the kids and walked off to enjoy their first-class experience. But I wasn’t going to let it slide. As I boarded with the kids, a plan began forming in my mind. This flight was about to get interesting.
When we got to our seats, I noticed the difference between first class and economy immediately. There they were, already sipping champagne while I struggled with our luggage. My five-year-old wanted to sit with Daddy, but I had to explain that “Daddy and Grandma are in a special part of the plane.”
The kids were settled, and I noticed something important—I had Clark’s wallet. Earlier, at the security checkpoint, I had quietly taken his wallet out of his bag without him noticing. I smiled to myself. This was going to be fun.
Two hours into the flight, the kids were asleep, and I was enjoying the quiet. I saw the flight attendants serving gourmet meals in first class. Clark was ordering expensive dishes and top-shelf liquor, indulging in every luxury.
Soon after, I saw Clark frantically searching his pockets. He had realized his wallet was missing. The flight attendant stood there, waiting for him to pay. Clark tried to explain that he couldn’t find his wallet, but the flight attendant wasn’t having it.
Watching this unfold from economy was like my own private show. A flight attendant came by to offer me something, but I just asked for water and some popcorn, ready to enjoy the rest of the drama.
Clark came down to economy, looking worried. He crouched next to my seat and whispered, “Soph, I can’t find my wallet. Do you have any cash?”
I pretended to be concerned. “Oh no! That’s terrible. How much do you need?”
“About $1,500,” he said, wincing.
I nearly laughed out loud. “What did you order, the entire menu?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, panicking. “Do you have it or not?”
I rummaged through my purse. “I’ve got $200. Will that help?”
He took the cash but looked desperate. “Maybe your mom has her credit card?” I suggested sweetly.
Clark went pale. He realized he would have to ask his mom for help. His perfect first-class experience was completely ruined.
For the rest of the flight, Clark and his mom sat in stony silence. Meanwhile, I enjoyed my economy seat with a sense of satisfaction.
As we were landing, Clark made one last trip to economy. “Sophie, are you sure you haven’t seen my wallet?”
I put on my best innocent face. “No, honey. Maybe you left it at home?”
Clark was frustrated, running his hands through his hair. “This is a nightmare.”
“Well,” I said, “at least you got to enjoy first class, right?”
He glared at me. “Yeah, real enjoyable.”
After the flight, Clark was sour, muttering about his missing wallet. His mom disappeared into the bathroom, avoiding the tension. I suggested he might have left it in first class, which didn’t improve his mood.
As we left the airport, I felt a little giddy. I still had his wallet and planned to treat myself to something nice before returning it. A little revenge never hurt anyone.
So, if your partner ever tries to upgrade themselves and leave you behind, a bit of creative payback might just be what you need. After all, in the journey of life, we’re all in this together—whether in first class or economy!
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