The Third or Fourth New Bathroom in 13 Years

Why I see twenty thousand euros as freedom, not luxury

This morning I saw the truck from the bathroom company parked outside the neighbours’ house. Not just any bathroom company. A luxury bathroom company.

And I noticed myself returning to the same thought I’ve come back to several times over the past few days.

I simply don’t understand it. Not because I think people shouldn’t spend their money however they want. But because I genuinely don’t understand what a different bathroom adds to someone’s happiness when the bathroom that was already there was more beautiful than anything I could ever dream up myself.

As far as I know, this bathroom has now been renovated for the third or fourth time in the twelve years we’ve lived here. And the more I think about it, the less I understand what I’m looking at. When I think of twenty thousand euros, I don’t see a bathroom. I see a car that’s safe enough to drive without fear. I see new tyres that mean Mart no longer has to worry about getting on the road I see a camper that can finally be finished. I see a financial buffer that turns setbacks into inconveniences instead of crises. I see a small piece of land. I see trees. I see peace. I see freedom. I see memories that still have the chance to be made.

Maybe that’s because I’ve never really seen money as something that makes possessions prettier. I see money as something that creates space. Space to live. Space to recover. Space to make choices. Space to finally move forward. A place where Fannar can simply walk outside when he needs to. A place where we can wake up without being overwhelmed the moment we open our eyes. A place where we can go for a walk without first needing a car. A life in which we need fewer things instead of more.

Maybe that’s the reason I struggle so much to understand that bathroom. I’m increasingly aware that I seem to view money very differently from many of the people around me. When others see twenty thousand euros, they sometimes see a more beautiful version of something they already have. When I see twenty thousand euros, I see possibilities that don’t exist yet.

That’s also why I so often feel as though I’m living on a different planet from many of the people around me. Because if I’m honest, I don’t believe a different bathroom makes someone significantly happier when the old one is already beautiful, clean and fully functional. I genuinely cannot understand how someone can look at an already beautiful bathroom and think: “I’d like to spend twenty thousand euros on that.” While I look at the exact same amount and think: “That could finally allow us to begin the life we’ve been longing for all these years.”

I think many people simply do what they see happening around them. Work. Earn more. Renovate. Upgrade. Change something else. Make it a little nicer again. As if that’s simply what you’re supposed to do when you have money. As if a house is never allowed to be finished. As if there always has to be a newer version of something that was already good, VERY good, in this case.

Status probably plays a role sometimes too. Maybe not consciously. But I see so many people spending money on things that make me wonder whether they’ll even think about them again five years from now. Because when I look at that bathroom, I don’t see memories. I don’t see adventures. I don’t see freedom. I don’t see life.
I just see another bathroom serving exactly the same purpose, built from scarce resources, torn out and thrown away, only to be replaced by other scarce resources that ultimately do exactly the same thing.

That probably says more about me than it does about anyone else. Because if our situation were reversed, I would be deeply uncomfortable. Not because I think people shouldn’t spend money on themselves. But because I wouldn’t be able to enjoy replacing something that was already a hundred times more luxurious than my mother’s bathroom, while walking past people every day who have spent years trying to get their lives moving again. I wouldn’t even see the bathroom anymore. I’d only see those neighbours.

And that’s exactly why I find it so difficult to understand. Not because I begrudge anyone anything. But because my mind automatically arrives at a different question. Not: “How can this be made more beautiful?” But: “How can this life be made better?” That’s where my thoughts always go. Not towards design. Not towards luxury. Not towards status.
But towards freedom. Towards health. Towards nature. Towards time. Towards the possibility of stepping outside in the morning without first needing a car, traffic, fuel, noise or stress.

Maybe that’s ultimately the biggest difference. While many people seem to look for happiness within the walls of their homes, I look for it outside them. And maybe that’s why I will never understand that bathroom.