Dirt Cheap

Last night, I got seriously, righteously angry in the grocery store about how healthy food costs more than the crap. I wanted to raise my mighty fist of indignation as I grabbed my $3 loaf of whole grain/non-high fructose corn syrup laden bread next to the $.69 loaf of white bread. Yeah, yeah, I know why its cheaper, but it still pisses me off. Eating well conflicts with my genetic programming to get it as cheap as possible.

Today, I went to Goodwill to get my daughter some pants. I won't lie. I buy things 2nd hand because I'm fundamentally cheap, but a nice bi-product of buying things 2nd hand is not overtaxing natural resources unnecessarily. There is no need to buy a brand new pair of pants when a perfectly good pair of existing pants is available, especially for a kid who could not care less about what she's wearing and will likely outgrow them before she's able to hand out those Valentine cards that she started making yesterday. (Weird kid!) But when those 2nd hand pants at the Goodwill hardly cost less than purchasing them brand new (on clearance, naturally), minus the stains and worn knees, my ire is raised again.I guess you know you're really cheap when you walk into Goodwill and think "I'm not going to pay these prices."

I know winter is coming because the thermostat wars have already begun in our household. It will likely come as no surprise that I'm the one turning down the thermostat, suggesting everyone put on some slippers, add a sweater, or grab a blanket. I just attach a mug of tea to my palm in November, and it keeps me warm until April. Pat on the other hand thinks that houses should be warm in the winter, warm enough for bare feet and shorts. He's already fighting dirty this year, suggesting that he only wants to turn the heat up to a balmy 72 degrees because of the children and their cold little fingers. Put on some mittens, you ingrates. We consider it a treat when Pat's parents come to visit in the winter. Not just because they buy us dinner and watch our children, but because his dad darts directly to thermostat upon arrival and insures that everyone will not need to sleep with a blanket until his departure.

My name is Julia, and, like the corn in your grocer's freezer, I'm genetically modified for cheapness.