I did two shopping events this week: the grocery store and Craigslist.
Shopping trip #1 was to an actual grocery store. Because I almost never go to this place on my own, my husband inadvertently duplicated my efforts this week. I'd taken the grocery list off the fridge; I'd taken the cloth shopping bags off their hooks; I'd taken the bag-of-plastic-bags that was marked "return to store for recycling." So, I thought it was obvious that I'd gone to the grocery store already.
I bought $158 worth of stuff: 10 gallons of olive oil, plus a splurge on bananas and Chunky Monkey ice cream for Friday's Monkey Dinner, and---probably most urgent---rolls and rolls of toilet paper. I didn't buy a lot of different things, but the things that I bought, I bought a lot of them.
And then my husband, thinking "we have only one roll of toilet paper left in the house", and (not seeing any of the signs that I thought were so incredibly blatantly obvious but apparently were not) did another grocery run, buying milk and cereal and snacks, and buying rolls and rolls of toilet paper.
So now we have rolls and rolls (and rolls and rolls) of toilet paper. My husband, who was a PR guy for most of his career, loves making puns; he tells me that they're "professional development". And so he'd tell you that our cupboards are overflowing so our shopping wasn't money down the drain; that now we're flush with success; that all that shopping has left him pooped. And of course at some point he'd have to say "and that's no sh*t". For my shopping efforts, he says "many tanks!", and that he's bowled over. (Perhaps this is why I don't go to the grocery store more often.)
***
Shopping trip #2 was part of my twisted resolutions: basically, in trying to cut back on whiskey, I decided to emulate the FrugalWoods and buy a Soda Stream. Because . . . well, it seems fun and frivolous (especially to my family, who say, "Mom bought a what?!?" -- it's fun to be the kind of person who can be shocking for doing semi-normal things).
I scoped out prices on Amazon for an upper bound, and then I lurked on Craigslist for a month or so. Most units there sell for $40 to $50. This past weekend, I saw someone advertising a moving sale with a Soda Stream listed, but no price. I decided to try to aim low on the price, even though she was offering canisters along with it. Here's our email conversation back and forth:
Shopping trip #1 was to an actual grocery store. Because I almost never go to this place on my own, my husband inadvertently duplicated my efforts this week. I'd taken the grocery list off the fridge; I'd taken the cloth shopping bags off their hooks; I'd taken the bag-of-plastic-bags that was marked "return to store for recycling." So, I thought it was obvious that I'd gone to the grocery store already.
I bought $158 worth of stuff: 10 gallons of olive oil, plus a splurge on bananas and Chunky Monkey ice cream for Friday's Monkey Dinner, and---probably most urgent---rolls and rolls of toilet paper. I didn't buy a lot of different things, but the things that I bought, I bought a lot of them.
And then my husband, thinking "we have only one roll of toilet paper left in the house", and (not seeing any of the signs that I thought were so incredibly blatantly obvious but apparently were not) did another grocery run, buying milk and cereal and snacks, and buying rolls and rolls of toilet paper.So now we have rolls and rolls (and rolls and rolls) of toilet paper. My husband, who was a PR guy for most of his career, loves making puns; he tells me that they're "professional development". And so he'd tell you that our cupboards are overflowing so our shopping wasn't money down the drain; that now we're flush with success; that all that shopping has left him pooped. And of course at some point he'd have to say "and that's no sh*t". For my shopping efforts, he says "many tanks!", and that he's bowled over. (Perhaps this is why I don't go to the grocery store more often.)
***
Shopping trip #2 was part of my twisted resolutions: basically, in trying to cut back on whiskey, I decided to emulate the FrugalWoods and buy a Soda Stream. Because . . . well, it seems fun and frivolous (especially to my family, who say, "Mom bought a what?!?" -- it's fun to be the kind of person who can be shocking for doing semi-normal things).
I scoped out prices on Amazon for an upper bound, and then I lurked on Craigslist for a month or so. Most units there sell for $40 to $50. This past weekend, I saw someone advertising a moving sale with a Soda Stream listed, but no price. I decided to try to aim low on the price, even though she was offering canisters along with it. Here's our email conversation back and forth:
Me: I might be interested in the soda stream; I've been scouting around for one for about $30. What price are you asking?
Soda-Stream Person: I would take $15 since I'm including the brand new canister as well as the partially full one. How's that sound?
Me: Um . . . aren't you supposed to try to talk me into a *higher* price? At any rate, I'm interested. I have free time today before 5:30 to come by, if that time frame would work for you!So, I talked her into accepting $30 anyway. Because, karma or something. Plus, y'know, our family is already flush with success.
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