According to the Internal Revenue Service, 20-25% of all Americans wait until the last two weekends before the April 15^th deadline to prepare their returns. I can’t think of another event for which procrastination seems so justifiable.

I understand some people like to create budgets and organize personal data, but I certainly don’t. And, as I am fond of joking, I come from a long line of people who pay other people to do these kinds of things for me, I hired an accountant to sort out my earnings and expenses and make sure I’ve been following the tax code.

Like all my American brothers and sisters — employed, unemployed, and under-employed, rich, poor, and in-between, I stood in line at the post office Saturday to send my return and check to the IRS in Cincinnati by registered mail. (I filed and paid a small amount to the state of Illinois online.)

I am fortunate, I know. I have more than enough to eat and a nice home. I also recognize that paying taxes is actually paying for many services I use. Still, I owed money this year and sending of a chunk of change when I have not been seeing checks come in regularly causes me more than a little discomfort.

I caught myself feeling sort of poor while trying to remind myself I am really very well-off.  This actually caused a sense of dissonance in my body. My body hates it when I try to be Pollyanna when I actually feel more like Grumble-stilskin.  I knew I couldn’t just tell myself something I wanted to believe, I had to feel what I wanted to believe.

I went to the Dollar Tree.

The Dollar Tree is a store, one of a chain that exists all over Chicago, maybe all over the States.  My favorite one is in a strip mall near a building that was once an all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet, within yards of a liquor store and a small postal station. Their aisles are stacked with party supplies, toys, household items (even some name brands), health and beauty products (they have loads of things in trial sizes), seasonal home décor products, and a few grocery items I would mostly categorize as snacks.

For only a dollar, I could buy a set of five Day-Glo necklaces, or a small plastic bottle of Ajax liquid (they have the orange and yellow kind), or a package of large manila envelopes, or a new toothbrush or potholder, or party plates with matching cups in a veritable rainbow of colors.

I love going to the Dollar Tree.  It’s a place where I can indulge myself on small whim purchases and stretch my imagination.  I never would have thought about getting mambo striped glass tumblers for summertime drinks or purple paper plates until I saw them. When I go to Dollar Tree, I can also get a futuristic laser gun-like water pistol, large sandwich bags, a cobalt blue martini glass, a birthday card, and a jar of peanut butter for $5.00.  This delights me. Free parking is a bonus too. Shopping at the Dollar Tree is such an easy way to feel rich.

I didn’t try to feel rich by telling myself there were so many who were less fortunate than me. I felt rich because there were so many things I could buy that could delight me.

Being delighted by unexpected consumer options is no small thing.