Friday 5th November was one of those idyllic days. The sun smiled. Good things happened. We signed two lucrative bookings for our guesthouse, and accomplished a whole lot of other things at work. We visited friends, in the evening, and swapped stories with them.
The $80 000 per month executive wants his salary raised to 85K; that the driver of the Lamborghini starts to find small faults with his vehicle, and begins to eye the newest model Mazzerati with increasing desire; that the stock exchange player who has just sold his Intel shares at an impressive profit, is hoping to make a killing this week with his General Electric shares. No mansion is big enough when this restlessness takes hold, and a walk-in wardrobe containing thirty suits, four score and three shirts and a hundred neck ties is not yet good enough.