Something happened yesterday that really put our privileged lives in perspective. As a result, I think a formula can be created that measures our level of privilege as a ratio of the volume of "First World" problems we create for ourselves.
There will be no math so stay with me.
The scene opens as my dear wife prepares for Thanksgiving, an annual gathering of loved ones that requires weeks of planning. We are entering week three.
Linda bought the new table online but the first and second delivery showed up damaged. Yesterday, a third delivery proved successful. There is a reason that UPS, spoken as a word, sounds a lot like "oops".
We hired a young man from across the street to assemble everything and when he finished, Linda seemed concerned about the "look" of the living room.
Again, I thought the old coffee table was great, but since my arguments failed to save it, I felt less than qualified to be a strong proponent of the new one, for fear it would suffer the same fate.
Knobs? Too many knobs? Huh? "But sweetheart, you wanted more drawers and drawers need knobs because you would break your nails opening drawers that don't have knobs".
Linda became silent, which I have learned is her deliberative mode. It usually indicates that my opinion has been well received and is getting full consideration.
After several minutes, she announced her decision. The new table with all the knobs can stay.
After the "knob turmoil" ended, we were emotionally spent. I told Linda that we've just experienced one of the most severe cases of a "first world" problem imaginable, which only proves that we have much to be thankful for this year.