My husband (wince-– still not used to that title) and I, like everybody else, have certain priorities when it comes to spending. We eat lots of soup (beans in a bag= $1 = approximately 4 meals), only buy meat/produce/everything on sale, shop groupon/living social/restaurant.com, chat on flip phones without internet, and don’t own a TV to save money on cable bills (not to say that we don’t watch TV. Considering that we’ve gotten through six seasons of 24 on Netflix in the past two months, and each season represents one day, that means that we’ve spent… okay this calculation is just depressing).
However, there are certain investments in which it just isn’t practical or cost effective to trim back. For instance:
- A dollar store container of oregano flakes felt light, but I figured, how heavy can dried plant leaves be anyway? Well, heavier than air, which is what filled 80% percent of the container.
- A reduced-priced roll of star patterned wrapping paper transitioned into horrid checkers after the first layer was unraveled
- The majority of a $1 bag of tortilla chips was melded into one giant, charred, fried corn slab. When Phil dipped his hand into that bag and pulled out an unappetizing black mess, he said, “Maybe it’s best to pay full-price for some things.”
After his critique of my shopping habits, I’ve been waiting for my opportunity to strike back, and although that day has come, I wish it hadn’t. I refer you to the evidence exhibited above.
You may be wondering if this was the work of mastermind mice pushing mini mice-sized lawnmowers up Phil’s neck, but no. This massacre of a haircut occurred at our local barber shop, a facility aptly name, “Barber”. Like most small businesses in our area of Long Island, it’s owned by Italian Americans (I infer this from the many photographs of Sylvester Stallone, Francis Ford Coppola, and Frank Sinatra, and from the practically life sized map of Italy), and from the looks of these shady-shavers, they are of an age no riper than 85. The particular menace behind this pair of clippers walked with a limp and was not wearing eyeglasses, but based on his handiwork, I’d say he shouldn’t be operating small machinery without visual assistance.
After I stopped laughing, I snapped these photographs to show Phil that he had not been barbered, but butchered (and then I promptly loaded the photos onto my computer). If his haircutter is into organized crime, his mob name must be Blind Benny or Paul the Pruner.
Phil turned right around and went back to Barber for a cleanup, but by the time he arrived, their storefront was closed–middle of the day on a Sunday. Interesting.
Phil was forlorn. In an attempt to comfort him, I said, “Don’t worry, who looks at the back of your head anyway?” He answered, “My students while I’m writing on the board 7 hours a day.”
And because I couldn’t let the back of Phil’s head look like a map of the U.S./Mexican border, I stepped up to the plate.
I will not post “after” photographs because I’m not one to brag. But I will say that I have new respect for when my mother used to place a bowl on top of my brother’s head and shave around it. There’s a lot of power in the hands of a person with an electric razor, and with great power comes great responsibility.
In conclusion, a few items have been bumped in priority level on our expense sheets. Namely, tortilla chips and haircuts.
** Phil would like to note that this wasn’t a cheap haircut. It was $15. But since he only gets a haircut four times a year, I argue that we can increase our annual budget