brown bag

I may have mentioned a time or two that I am a penny-pincher. I actually don't think there is a word in the English language to describe my intense desire to save money. I never buy anything that isn't absolutely necessary. I don't buy clothing for myself unless I absolutely need it for a specific purpose; why do so when you can get clothing for Christmas from your parents? When it comes to groceries, I buy necessities--as in, what is needed to sustain life--only. I never bought anything like cookies or ice cream, which I consider superfluous and indulgent, until I married Husband, the consummate sweet tooth. There is almost nothing I wouldn't do to save a few bucks.

If you know Husband and I, you know that this creates.... tension... between us at times. Husband is much more well-adjusted when it comes to money. He doesn't consider buying ice cream a crime, and he isn't racked with guilt when he goes out to eat. He also tends to make purchases that I don't quite understand. (Did you NEED that shirt? Were you told to buy it for work? Are you performing with a doo-wop group that calls for some kind of uniform? WHAT WAS THE SPECIFIC REASON FOR BUYING THE SHIRT?)

I tend to lose my mind most frequently over the fact that we eat out so much. Husband and I LOVE to go out for dinner, which can be rather costly. On a given weekend, we may eat out Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon. In addition, Husband tends to buy lunch every day of the week. Admit it, even for you normal people, that seems like a lot. To me it is MADNESS.

Husband has always said (at least for the past year or so) that he would eat a sandwich for lunch every day if I would pack it for him. Pack you own sandwich, I would retort. And so, the sandwich would go unmade, and another $7 would be spent that day on lunch. ($7 A DAY! FIVE DAYS A WEEK! I am hyperventilating just describing it.) Every few weeks, when I have my regular panic attack about the money we spend eating out, Husband reminds me that really, its my own fault that he eats out for lunch because if I would make him a bag lunch, he would eat it.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally, two weeks ago, I finally got over my aversion to the "make my lunch for me" idea in favor of saving money. I bought all the lunch meat, chips, and cookies (of course) needed to feed Husband for the week, and every morning, he wakes me up (usually by screaming "SANDWICH!") so I can feel like we are saving money. He has even taken to taunting me in the morning, a la "I'm about leave! You better make me lunch or I will be forced to go out! Probably somewhere expensive!"

(Have we discussed the fact that Husband lists among his hobbies Getting a Rise Out of My Wife?)

Anyway, this morning, I was gently awoken with a kiss on my forehead and a whispered goodbye. Darting out of bed, I cried out in my coffee-less morning stupor, "LUNCH! I GOT IT! GIVE ME TWO MINUTES!"

"I'm leaving."

"But... lunch!?"

"I'm on my way out the door."

"NO! Lunch!"

Patting my arm, he says, nonchalantly, "Oh, I made my own lunch."

If I didn't know my granny reads this (hi!), I would say that THAT is the language that can get a man lucky.

I commenced with cooing and petting and telling him how I proud I was. He just kissed me again and headed for the car. As I laid back down in the glow of marital bliss, I heard him call from the door,

"Just this once."