Whenever a new magazine arrives in the mailbox, it sits on my bedside table, where I read it page by page over the next days in the few minutes before the lights shut off before bedtime. And there I was, just a few nights ago, new magazine propped up on my knees, leafing through slowly when I came across the following page:
Seems inconspicuous enough, right? Seven pretty knives, one would assume sharp and effective to cut your steak, stab your potatoes or pick your nails, or any of the other mundane activities that one might perform with a small handheld knife. All of this is straight-forward, nothing to get your panties in a bunch. But, let's zoom in a second here:
|This was about the moment when my jaw dropped to the floor|
|Um... those are my options? Steak knives vs. a used car? Cause used car wins, EVERY TIME|
In the midst of my outraged rant that you could feed a thousand elementary school kids for a week as opposed to buying 8 $1000+ knives, Ben just shrugged and said "That's not their audience. Their audience is opulence".
Anyways, this is why I worry about my life decisions. When I, in full knowledge of this insane standard and rational (cause sterling silver trim is so worth it) of the Bon Appetit editors, make the conscientious decision to renew my Bon Appetit subscription for not only 1 year, but two. Because that was the cheapest per magazine option. I think there might be some irony there. In conclusion, I don't know if I'm more ashamed of myself or of Bon Appetit. Or maybe it's just the shame of my $4 steak knives.
Any one else make any poor, first-world, life decisions lately?