An acquaintance of mine was complaining about her father’s stinginess. “He’s worth a million dollars, and he doesn’t want to spend any of it,” she said resentfully.

“I’m worth a million dollars,” I said.

“You are?” When she is shocked, her eyes go all poached-egg, and she was shocked.

“Yeah, I have a 401(k) and a paid-off house,” I said.

“Oh, well, that,” she said and lost interest. She was talking about the dream of a million dollars, you see, not the reality.

If I sold the house, I’d have to buy another one or pay rent, and even assuming I could somehow get at the restricted part of my 401(k), I’d pay an unpleasant amount in taxes. So I’m worth a million dollars, as long as I don’t actually want to have a million dollars.

I too like to dream about being wealthy, though, as long as I don’t have to be realistic about it.