In the current economy, when a visit to the grocery store requires a long-term financing plan, it has become clear that our family must find ways to spend less. That is especially challenging for us considering that we have two daughters in college, one in private school, and three pets, all of whom seem determined to ensure that we won’t be able to purchase hamburger meat without selling our plasma.
Our first step toward financial freedom, or at least parole, involved canceling our lawn service. That meant I had to exhume my vintage Craftsman push lawnmower that had been comfortably decomposing in our storage shed for the past three years, or so.
After replacing a spark plug, adding some oil of unknown origin, and praying for the souls of Briggs and Stratton, I had exhausted my vast knowledge of troubleshooting small combustion engines. So, I resorted to seeking help and risking ridicule from my mechanically inclined cousin. Unfortunately, he soon had me back to inhaling hydrocarbons, sweating profusely, and wishing for the good old days when I could compliment my lawn guy and go back inside to take another hit of aerosol whipped cream.
I had also forgotten about the toll mowing takes on my post-middle-aged carcass. When I finished the yard for the first time in a while, I felt like I had participated in an aggressive one-on-one match against U.S. Woman’s Rugby Olympian Ilona Maher … and lost … badly. The next day, I could barely move – except to go to church in hopes that the sermon would focus on those verses about someday getting a new, glorified body that doesn’t require a steady regimen of Tylenol and lying prone on our bedroom floor whining, instead of doing the lumbar stretches my doctor prescribed.
The cancellation of our weekly swimming pool service compounded my budgetary heartbreak. Gone were the Fridays when I could come home to crystal-clear pool water and a door hanger indicating that the pool had been brushed, vacuumed and tested by technicians who could do it without complaining to their wives that no one ever swims in the pool anymore – except for the occasional bullfrog, possum or hyperactive (and not terribly bright) pet doglet accidentally falling in while trying to chase our antique Polaris pool sweeper.
I do admit that, nowadays, I sometimes strip down to take a brief dip in the pool after mowing, and I may or may not risk traumatizing the neighbors and being arrested by doing so in my underwear.
Our final act of supreme sacrifice was to cancel most of our TV and movie streaming services. That has probably been the easiest adjustment for me since I rarely had time to watch anything other than cable news networks, none of whom tell the whole story, so I had to watch all of them in order to get my blood pressure elevated properly. I do miss the nerve-induced nausea I experienced watching my beloved Texas A&M Aggies play football on TV, but I can almost get the same sensation that I’m about to toss my tacos by listening to the games on the radio.
The government has been assuring us lately that the economy is improving and inflation is declining, so I guess there is reason for hope. I just wish someone would tell the hamburger meat.
Copyright 2024 Jase Graves distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate. Graves is an award-winning humor columnist from East Texas. Contact Graves at susanjase@sbcglobal.net.
