The Grass isn't Just Greener on the Other Side, its Made of Gold

In economics you are taught the concept of opportunity cost. When you pick something, you choose not to pick its alternative. When you pick lilac to paint your bedroom walls, you choose not to pick mellow yellow. When you choose to send your wife (or your mistress, depending on your integrity) carnations, you choose not to send her orchids. When you pick psychology as your major, you choose not to pick history. When you decide to go to Hawaii next summer, you choose not to go to Vermont, and so on and so forth, you get the picture.

In the case of a person like me, whose primary interest in life is to be not satisfied with what she has, the system of opportunity cost seems to mock me on the face. I pick and choose among alternatives like every other regular average joe (or jenny, not to sound sexist) and then play mental World Wars thinking how much better off I would be if had picked the 'other one'.

To me, the grass isn't just greener on the other side, its probably made of gold, and embellished with precious stones and all that. It taunting me, saying things like, 'You should have picked me!' and 'I'm all bright and shiny!'

And I'm stuck here on the boring side, with my regular green grass. Mind you, this isn't about the grass, its about my unsettling character trait. The part of me inside which says, 'Don't be happy with what you have, get more!'

I want my gold grass.

And I'm convinced that if I had it, I wouldn't look at the other side and sigh and think, 'That green grass looks absolutely perfect.' I swear.

Who am I kidding?