I Pinch Pennies and Waste Money

The first time I wore my new hairpin, the stick part went all bendy, and the little silver pheasant fell off the end. Cheap, tacky thing! This is the last time I'll be beguiled by shiny beads and colourful lacquer. I'll keep my hair in one of those crocheted pouches dancers wear, from now on. (Except I won't--I'm much too tight-fisted to buy a hair-pouch and a hairpin in the same fiscal year. I'll introduce Mr. Pheasant to Mr. Super-Glue, and wear him till his beak falls off. Just see if I don't!)

Then, there's the grey cardigan Mother got me in October. This cardigan is a thing of beauty, thick of wool and high of collar, and just the right shade of dove-grey to bring out the green in my eyes. Most people think I have brown eyes, but they're really green. Well, brown with green flecks, any road, and that's the next best thing. I once ordered some contact lenses that would've made them all green, but I kept forgetting to pick them up. I ought to do that, some day. I wonder if they'd still have them, after six years?

The cardigan, though--I haven't worn it yet. I've been wearing the ugly magenta one, instead. Mother got me that one by mistake. The sun was just setting, and she thought it was red. It's a good thing it wasn't: if it had been, I wouldn't be wearing it, either. These cardigans, see, they're so lovely and warm, and flattering besides. They cling to my curves and soften my pointy bits. Too good to wear, really. What if I wore the grey one, and spilled ink down the front? Or what if it caught on a nail, or pilled up in the wash? What if a dog jumped up and bit it? There are too many hazards in this world to chance such a perfect cardigan. I'm saving it for a special occasion. (Although, sometimes there's red wine at these special occasions. Besides, I have my white silk blouse for formal wear--and who wears a cardigan on a night out, anyway?)

The birds, on the other hand--the birds are wasteful creatures. I saved them some delicious fresh corn the other night, corn from my own plate, and then Miss White--ah, it's too horrible! I sat and watched, helpless, as she dropped that corn, kernel by kernel, into the catch-tray on the bottom of the cage. Has she no idea what fresh corn costs, this time of year? Thirty-nine cents a cob! She must've tossed away at least fifteen cents' worth. I showed her, though. I put in some big chunks of pineapple, instead. She can throw those on the floor all she wants--they won't fit through the bars.

Listen to me, though. Here I am, berating Miss White for wasting fifteen cents, and I've just blown a hundred and fifty dollars. I've wanted a digital camera for ages, see, and when I was offered one slightly used, and at less than half market value--well, what's a greedy rat to do? It's an Olympus SP-310, sold by its previous owner 'cos she thought it was an SLR camera, and it isn't. (I, having no idea what an SLR camera is, don't care one whit either way. I'm just pleased to have a camera, and confused about how to use it. Being second-hand, and all, it didn't come with instructions. I think I've got the hang of taking photos, now, but I can't seem to get them out of the camera. Maybe I need a special driver, or something. What a pain. There aren't enough hours in the day!)

I've spent more than I've earned this month. Time to get back to work.