Life

Why You Should Avoid Buying Things That Are Hard To Take Care Of

Many individuals will make purchases based on their preferences and impulsive desires, yet they fail to adequately assess the maintenance costs associated with such acquisitions. Subsequently, they experience regret after the transaction. Take pets, for instance. I have an acquaintance who operates a pet emporium. Prior to selling pets, especially adorable puppies, he explicitly advises potential buyers regarding the arduousness of canine rearing. Regardless of inclement weather conditions—be it rain, snow, or hail—one must venture outdoors to walk the dog. Following the walk, one is obliged to retrieve feces. If the dog falls ill, substantial monetary expenses for treatment must be anticipated. Moreover, during seasonal transitions, dogs shed copious amounts of hair, which proves exceptionally vexing for individuals with rhinitis. Many individuals become disheartened upon discovering that raising a dog entails more than the mere adorability of puppies.

I, too, possess a feline companion akin to Garfield, whose endearing appearance belies its excessive shedding. I employ the services of a domestic help to cleanse my abode daily. Whenever I return home in the evening, I am greeted by an array of its shed fur wafting through the air, eventually settling upon the floor. My colleagues often lament the presence of cat hair on their backs and other inconspicuous areas. My previous feline companion was even more unruly. A friend, unable to care for it any longer, bestowed upon me a ragdoll cat by the name of Tuanzi. This particular feline not only shed fur in patches but also urinated indiscriminately. Consequently, I resorted to providing Tuanzi with a two-meter-high cat enclosure, necessitating regular maintenance. Nevertheless, the emotional and physical fatigue persisted, leaving me no alternative but to return the cat to its original owner.

Owing to my feline companion, I suffer from perennial rhinitis. Of course, pets exude charm and offer solace to their owners. However, if one finds oneself preoccupied with work, allocating sufficient time to attend to the pet becomes arduous, which proves detrimental to the well-being of both parties. Hence, if one has yet to acquire a pet, I strongly discourage doing so. If, however, one has already taken the plunge, enduring the challenges becomes the only viable option.

When we engage in consumerism, our objective is to enhance our quality of life and attain happiness. Yet, during the course of utilization, we encounter items that necessitate meticulous attention. Consequently, rather than fostering joy, consumption often engenders misery. Such instances abound, such as garments requiring extensive care.

I stumbled upon an online account of a young woman who intended to donate a skirt. Each time she attempted to dry it, she had to painstakingly arrange and iron the pleats individually. This process proved exceedingly cumbersome. Similarly, there are certain shoes I refrain from wearing outside my residence. These shoes demand meticulous maintenance, necessitating an hour’s worth of cleaning after each use, only to be stored in the shoebox and eventually succumb to mold. Additionally, certain garments, composed of specialized materials, cannot be entrusted to a washing machine. Consequently, they must be washed by hand, resulting in aching backs and cramped legs.

Allow me to propose a notion: when purchasing daily essentials, simplicity, durability, and convenience ought to take precedence. After all, one expends money with the intention of attaining personal happiness, not to suffer needlessly.

I arrived at this realization when I acquired a Japanese cast iron pot. Its stylish appearance led me to believe it would be ideal for hot pot preparations. However, I failed to anticipate the difficulties associated with caring for cast iron pots. Each use mandates thorough washing with water and the subsequent application of oil to avert rust formation. Otherwise, one is confronted with a pot marred by unsightly red rust upon retrieval. Once rust has manifested, cleansing proves challenging. Even diligent washing and restoration to its original hue leaves behind imperceptible traces of rust. I inadvertently allowed it to rust once, and despite my meticulous cleaning, I discovered my tongue had turned black following a meal.

During the Double Eleven shopping event two years ago, I procured a fruit juicer with great enthusiasm, envisioning an array of freshly squeezed juices. Yet, subsequent usage revealed the arduous nature of this apparatus.

Firstly, my fondness for consuming fruits did not match my initial expectations. I compelled myself to purchase fruits for the sole purpose of extracting their juices, inadvertently increasing my sugar intake. Secondly, this contraption proved challenging to maintain. A persistent residue invariably accumulated beneath the rotary knife at the base, defying all attempts at eradication. Lastly, this device rendered the consumption of fruits a more laborious endeavor. Previously, one could readily consume a banana after peeling it. However, with the juicer, one must contemplate the instruments required to extract the juice and endure the subsequent cleaning of the appliance and the surrounding area. Alas, the cumbersome nature of the process has renderedme disinclined to partake in any fruit consumption henceforth.

Countless small appliances share this propensity for wasting money, time, and occupying valuable space. Bread machines, yogurt makers, juicers, even nightlights, decorative lights, and compact cameras are among them. While these items may hold value, their practical usage remains infrequent, often burdening the user. Thus, it is advisable to refrain from their purchase.

So, how does one discern the frequency of necessity? I propose the toothbrush principle as a guiding principle. Essentially, if the intended product necessitates active or passive usage more than twice a day, it can be considered a high-frequency item. Conversely, products that require less frequent use—once a year, for instance—often demand substantial time investment for maintenance. Not only do they fail to elevate one’s quality of life, but they also impose a significant burden. It is precisely this type of expenditure that transforms the act of spending money into an ordeal for individuals like myself.

error: Content is protected !!