Here's another: Duck! Nothing personal, it's just live waterfowl make me nervous. Mimes, too, but let's get back to soup.
I've read stories and overheard conversations peppered with the phrase "soup line," along with words such as "unemployment" and "jobless rates." Love me some soup, but standing in line for a bowl of anything sounds about as appealing as well, standing in line, period.
Much as I try to wear rose-colored glasses, or at least lie to you about doing so, I can't seem to get a grasp on what the economy (or, better put, good sense) is pushing me toward. That nastiest of B words -- budget. Just call it "bank diet" or "financial fasting," would ya, Merriam?
Still, it's a necessary action. But I need to find ways to cut corners in case it's true about Chicken Little's and Isaac Newton's respective theories on the sky and gravity. Forever in coupons
I'm among the first to admit I'm fabulously inept at sticking to budgets. I'd like to blame the government and be done with it, but millions have beaten me to that old saw, so here goes: I blame Canada.
Seriously, though, I get depressed if I go more than two days without spending money.
It's not so much the culmination of stuff, as I'm in the glacial process of purging items from my closet. And for every item I bring into the house, I dispose of one. Yeah, that's another lie.
For me, it's the thrill of any purchase, from deciding what I want ("Six-inch turkey on wheat, please, not toasted") to the climax of a money transaction ("Do you take debit cards?"). And most of you know of my sick little fancy for toting around shopping bags, even if they don't belong to me.
So what's a financial faster like me to do in these questionable times?
No. 1: Coupons. Ugh, I've never been a coupon person, as I usually only visit grocery stores for cat food, cat litter, Diet Coke and some toiletries. But for what I spend on one meal at favorite restaurants, I could clip something out of the paper, pop over to Reasor's and have lunch all week.
No. 2: Buy generic. Again, ugh. But the fact I spend nearly $2 on a bottle of Fiji water vs. $1 on a mass-retailer's version is Fiji-ed up.
No. 3: Skip pop. Water's almost always free in restaurants (and I will NOT completely give up dining out -- we're not Third World yet, ya know).
Cable guy?
No. 4: Cheaper underwear. I'm a fan of Calvin Klein's boxer briefs, have been since college. But until he starts offering coupons for 'em, I'm shopping at Target. Lord, this is a depressing column, isn't it?
No. 5: Read more. I almost gave into cable at mi casa recently, but that's money that could go toward a utility bill or, let's be honest, Calvin Klein underwear.
To wrap this tortilla up, I'm semi-optimistic that our market malady will pass, sooner or later. Not unlike a kidney stone, perhaps, but the acute, doubled-over-in-a-fetal-position pain should eventually subside, right?
Or maybe we'll just pass out from the pain. Whatever, sleep is sleep.
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