I've just gotten back from Costco.
Well, my wife and I have. If it was me, I could have gotten away with keeping it under a hundred bucks. My wife treats shopping at Costco and Sam's as if it were an Olympic event. With her, it's a competition to see how fast she can go through my retirement, and, in the end, all the items we ended up buying fit into just three boxes.
For some reason, I seem to be the only one in the house who doesn't like to waste money. I didn't grow up poor and deprived, so I'm not carrying around that baggage. My Mom always had a kitchen full of food, with my Dad, just like me, probably complaining about how much everything cost. I say "probably," because my parents never argued or had any serious discussions in front of us kids. But back to me being cheap...
I mean, frugal.
My wife has started to buy these paper hand towels for the bathroom counters. That way, when we wash our hands or brush our teeth, we can wipe off the counter when we're done. One day, I made the mistake of looking at how much they cost.
Yikes!
It's not that they were going to put me in the poor house, but they were more expensive than I was willing to spend, mainly because of how quickly we go through them.
"Why can't we just use paper towels?" I asked my wife.
"Because they're ugly," she told me.
Quite frankly, I think the box that these paper hand towels come in are pretty ugly, too. It's not like they match anything. But, still, I couldn't argue with her opinion of what qualifies as ugly. If I argue too persuasively, I might end up not making the right side of the cut.
"We can keep the roll under the sink," I suggested.
"Ah... no," she suggested back.
So, what I decided to do was, instead of use the paper hand towels, I just tear off a couple of squares of toilet paper, and dry off the counter with that. 1) It's cheaper, 2) It works just as well, and 3) Well, there is no three, but I felt kind of skimpy just offering you two reasons.
It had never occurred to me to use toilet paper that way, but it seemed like a pretty logical solution once I did my secret shopping. Anyway...
As I carry in the boxes inside the house, I hear my Dad letting out a laugh. He's strutting up and down the kitchen counter pathway, checking out what we bought. He looks in one box, and then the other. I hear him telling my wife that she buys too much groceries.
"Hee, hee, hee! God al'mighty," he says, as if it's any of his business.
He looks at me and laughs in a what-a-dope kind of way.
"You guys buy too much. Too much," he says, shaking his head. His thinning, white hair flopping forward into his forehead. His arms going all over the place like a muppet from Sesame Street.
I look at my wife. She can see it in my eyes that I'm about to tell him, "Well, if you didn't eat three full meals a day, with snacks in between, I could cut my food bill in half."
My wife looks at me. I can see it in her eyes that she's telling me, "If you know what's good for you, you better not say a thing."
My wife. She loves that old man.
As we are putting away the groceries, my Dad keeps walking back and forth, looking at us, looking at what we bought.
"Hee, hee, hee," he says, still strutting "Hee, hee, hee. You guys always buy too much."
And then he stops. His cranes his neck. His eyes start to bulge because he's looking for something he doesn't see. So his head starts swinging around like it's on an old, wrinkly swivel.
"Hey, you didn't buy any..." Click, click, click! Smack, smack, smack! Mumble, mumble, mumble! "...cookies?"
Well, my wife and I have. If it was me, I could have gotten away with keeping it under a hundred bucks. My wife treats shopping at Costco and Sam's as if it were an Olympic event. With her, it's a competition to see how fast she can go through my retirement, and, in the end, all the items we ended up buying fit into just three boxes.
For some reason, I seem to be the only one in the house who doesn't like to waste money. I didn't grow up poor and deprived, so I'm not carrying around that baggage. My Mom always had a kitchen full of food, with my Dad, just like me, probably complaining about how much everything cost. I say "probably," because my parents never argued or had any serious discussions in front of us kids. But back to me being cheap...
I mean, frugal.
My wife has started to buy these paper hand towels for the bathroom counters. That way, when we wash our hands or brush our teeth, we can wipe off the counter when we're done. One day, I made the mistake of looking at how much they cost.
Yikes!
It's not that they were going to put me in the poor house, but they were more expensive than I was willing to spend, mainly because of how quickly we go through them.
"Why can't we just use paper towels?" I asked my wife.
"Because they're ugly," she told me.
Quite frankly, I think the box that these paper hand towels come in are pretty ugly, too. It's not like they match anything. But, still, I couldn't argue with her opinion of what qualifies as ugly. If I argue too persuasively, I might end up not making the right side of the cut.
"We can keep the roll under the sink," I suggested.
"Ah... no," she suggested back.
So, what I decided to do was, instead of use the paper hand towels, I just tear off a couple of squares of toilet paper, and dry off the counter with that. 1) It's cheaper, 2) It works just as well, and 3) Well, there is no three, but I felt kind of skimpy just offering you two reasons.
It had never occurred to me to use toilet paper that way, but it seemed like a pretty logical solution once I did my secret shopping. Anyway...
As I carry in the boxes inside the house, I hear my Dad letting out a laugh. He's strutting up and down the kitchen counter pathway, checking out what we bought. He looks in one box, and then the other. I hear him telling my wife that she buys too much groceries.
"Hee, hee, hee! God al'mighty," he says, as if it's any of his business.
He looks at me and laughs in a what-a-dope kind of way.
"You guys buy too much. Too much," he says, shaking his head. His thinning, white hair flopping forward into his forehead. His arms going all over the place like a muppet from Sesame Street.
I look at my wife. She can see it in my eyes that I'm about to tell him, "Well, if you didn't eat three full meals a day, with snacks in between, I could cut my food bill in half."
My wife looks at me. I can see it in her eyes that she's telling me, "If you know what's good for you, you better not say a thing."
My wife. She loves that old man.
As we are putting away the groceries, my Dad keeps walking back and forth, looking at us, looking at what we bought.
"Hee, hee, hee," he says, still strutting "Hee, hee, hee. You guys always buy too much."
And then he stops. His cranes his neck. His eyes start to bulge because he's looking for something he doesn't see. So his head starts swinging around like it's on an old, wrinkly swivel.
"Hey, you didn't buy any..." Click, click, click! Smack, smack, smack! Mumble, mumble, mumble! "...cookies?"
"You think you've got problems?" Maloney tells me, even though he frames it as a question. "My dog had an accident by the front door (that's where my mother-in-law's bedroom is), and I had to give him a whack. My mother-in-law gets up from her bed, where she's laying down watching TV like a queen. She's just nosy, that way. I take the dog to the backyard, and when I come back she's peeking around the door. I grab some paper towels, some wipes, and the mop. I start to clean it all up. She's just looking at me.
" 'Do you need any help?' she asks me, which was nice of her to do. I tell her no thanks. I mean, wiping up dog pee is a one-person job.
"So she's looking at me on my knees cleaning up a giant pool of urine, and...
" 'What did the dog do?' Mrs. Obvious asked me."" 'Do you need any help?' she asks me, which was nice of her to do. I tell her no thanks. I mean, wiping up dog pee is a one-person job.
"So she's looking at me on my knees cleaning up a giant pool of urine, and...
And Maloney stands there, expecting some kind of a reaction from me.
"That's it?" I ask him.
"Well... yeah," Maloney says, waving his arms around. Kind of like my Dad.
"That's not so bad," I tell him, but I'm thinking, You think YOU'VE got problems.
Raising My Father
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
@JimDuchene
No comments:
Post a Comment