That money talks ~ I’ll not deny,
I heard it once: It said, “Good-bye.”
On one hand, I’m scrimping to save up for our income tax bill. That must be my left hand. Because my right hand doesn’t know what my left hand is doing.
So far this month I show no reduction in expenses. You’d think it would be like quitting drugs: “Just say no.” But spending happens so quickly; before you know it the register is filled with Chevron, Costco, and all points in-between. Suddenly, “It’s too late, Baby.”
I’ve said it before, the best money-saving strategy isn’t “Just say no,” it’s “Just stay home.” Errand trips are killers, not to mention the gas to make them.
Each household has its own “pet” expenditures. But it gets even more expensive when each one within a household has diverse tastes; it becomes a matter of taking turns. Ironically, the goose and the gander each do their own thing. Either that, or the designated bookkeeper gets a phone call on the fly:
I’m stopping at the mechanic; the car’s out of sync. And then to the office-store, the printer’s out of ink. Please don’t forget to buy those pills for my gut, And, Oh yeah, by the way, I need a haircut. – = –
On the phone on the fly, what else can be said? But, “Well, I guess, ‘might as well go ahead.” Who am I to question the sync or the ink? The gut or the cut—but Man, it does stink.
Suddenly, “It’s too late, Baby.”The rubber meets the road on check-writing day; Those stops seem less urgent with a few bills to pay. I actually won’t die without coffee, it would seem, And, you know? Tacos are okay without sour cream. – = –
That tear in my shoe is still really quite small, And those leftovers don’t look so bad after all. So the bills get paid—and I don’t mean maybe— I don’t want Uncle Sam to say, “It’s too late, Baby.”