Tightwad Joke

A miserly old man was diagnosed with a terminal illness and determined to prove wrong the old saying, “You can’t take it with you.”

After much thought, the old geezer  finally figured out how to take at least some of his money with him when he died.

He instructed his wife to go to the bank and withdraw enough money to fill two pillowcases. and take the bags of money to the attic and leave them directly above his bed.

His plan: When he passed away, he would reach out and grab the bags on his way to heaven. Several weeks after the funeral, the deceased man’s wife, up in the attic cleaning came upon the two forgotten pillowcases stuffed with cash.

“Oh, that old skinflint” she exclaimed. “I knew he should have told me put the money in the basement.”

Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do, or Do Without

Some thing you just can’t get away from.   Everyday when I got home from school, it was the same thing..  Mother met us at the door.  “Take off your clothes and hang them up.  Take off your shoes and put them under the bed.  Get a biscuit out of the oven and do your homework.  Then you can go play.”

I hated hanging up my clothes, preferring to pitch them wherever they landed. I got sick of hearing how much work went into washing, starching, and ironing them.  After all,  she had a wringer washer, clothesline, and iron.  What else did she have to do anyway? She was a mother, not a person.  I got sick of all that nagging about my shoes.  I didn’t always have time to go back and put my shoes away when I tried to slip out to play.  Many times I’d kicked them off in the yard.  Once a dog chewed one up, a disaster, since getting new shoes involved pinching pennies and careful timing.  Daddy got paid on Thursdays.  Mother went to the bank and did all her shopping Thursdays.  There would be no money till  the next payday.  A Tuesday shoe emergency messed up the whole plan.  Daddy also had to be dealt with.  When we messed up, she was responsible.  It rained on the just and unjust alike.

Finally, the point of the story.  Despite my best efforts, Mother’s teaching, or genetic input took control. The instant I get home, I change and hang up my clothes and put my shoes in the closet. If I had one, I’d certainly have gotten a biscuit.  This just isn’t right.  You’d think after more than sixty years , I’d get a break.

Worse yet, I have to be frugal.  I have to use it up. Wear it out.  Make do or do without, just like people were directed during World War II.  Paper towels and napkins are wasteful, so I use dish cloths and cloth napkins.   Buzzy went into a clawing frenzy  and scratched a hole in my nice bamboo sheet a while back.  He is not frugal. I couldn’t bear to toss those  beautiful sheets and pillow cases, so I am making them into napkins and hankies.  Bamboo hankies are $19.99 per six pack.  Bamboo napkins cost $19.99 per twelve. So far, I’ve made a dozen napkins and a dozen hankies and some sleeping shorts for Bud. .  There is enough left over for more several more hankies, napkins , dish towels, dust cloths, and doilies for embroidery.  I am sick of the carcass of those  sheets , but can’t bear to throw them away when all this costs nothing but some work.  I think I need therapy.

 

Rock and Roll, Mama

When I was a kid, nothing would have shocked me more than the thought of hurting my mother. Despite this, when I was about ten, my brother and I came upon my mother rocking the baby, one of her few opportunities to take a break out of her impossible day. She had very little lap for the baby, since she was hugely pregnant with another.. Most often, she drifted off for a little nap herself. We thought it would be fun to surprise her by pulling on the back of the rocker, tipping her back. She must have been shocked or extremely good-natured, because she laughed out loud. Foolishly inferring we’d pleased her, we rocked her even further back, with her continued shrieks  of, “Stop! Stop! You’re going to drop me!” Because she seemed to be having so much fun, we kept it up till the chair tipped backwards, leaving her stranded, lying with the rocker back on the floor, swollen feet high in the air, under the weight of two babies, one on top of her belly, the other inside nearly ready to pop out.
We were horrified, thinking we’d killed her. The baby was howling at being upside down on her incapacitated Mama. Of course, Mother could do nothing to help herself, except shout, “Help, get me up! Get me up!” I thought we’d killed her, and probably the squalling baby, as well as the one on the way. The two of us struggled to get the chair up, learning a valuable lesson in physics at the same time. It’s a lot easier to tip a pregnant woman over than to get to her upright. Everybody did survive, despite our idiocy. The miracle was, the whole situation struck Mother as funny. Since then, I’ve never tempted to tip another pregnant woman over.