What is closer to the truth

That morning I woke lazily at ten and took almost an hour to get dressed. Then I put on my cashmere sweater and sat by the glass door near our balcony with a glass of orange juice while gazing at the rain. I continued to gaze for a while, taking deep breaths of cold air and sipping slowly at the juice. It was a time when I was revelling in materialism. My joblessness and lack of enthusiasm to work didn't bother me the least bit. Such was the intoxication of wealth. I had turned into a pleasure seeking slave.