Economic Crisis

I’m probably never allowed into TJ Maxx again (long story, that, fortunately, ends with no jail time for me), but on that final trip, I bought a fabulous purse for twenty bucks.

Dave wasn’t impressed.

“If your purse was only twenty bucks,” he said, staring at the receipt, “why were you charged ninety?”

“Darling,” I started, “the first purse I picked up was $130. When I found the $20 purse, I decided to go ahead and buy a pair of black tights and black boots to go with the new black dress I bought last week.”

Blank stare.

“On my birthday?”

Furled eyebrows.

“Fifteen dollars off?”

Head cocked to the side. “Don’t you already have black boots?” he asked.

“Yes, but those are old,” I said slowly, so he would be able to follow, “and I’ve worn the heels down so much I was afraid I might fall on the ice this winter. I’m just trying to save us a little money.”

“By buying new boots?” He still didn’t get it.

“New, safer boots,” I clarified, “that won’t cause costly injuries. Plus, they were on sale, so I saved fifty dollars on the spot!”

“You ‘saved’ fifty dollars?” This was way over his head.

“Yes, I did, but wait, there’s more,” I said proudly. “When I tried on the black tights and black boots with the black dress, I decided the tights and boots would actually look better with a different top, like this hot little satiny number I got for seventy-five percent off!!”

I held the new shirt up to me for him to admire, but he clearly wasn’t as excited as I was.

“Don’t you see? Fifty off the boots, fifteen off the dress, thirty-three off the new top, and one hundred ten with the cheaper purse? That’s almost two hundred dollars I’ve saved in less than a week!”

Damn, I thought, I should have gone into finance. I totally could have come up with a bailout plan…

“Honey, fifty plus fifteen plus thirty-three plus one hundred ten is actually over two hundred,” Rainman replied.

“Yesss, even better! I am a budgeting genius!” I shouted.

“And,” he added, “you really aren’t saving any money by spending it.”

Why is this so hard for him to understand? I didn’t have time to re-do the math for him, though. I simply kissed him on the cheek and smiled as I grabbed my keys.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To find a new purse,” I said, walking to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“What’s wrong with the one you just bought?”

I glanced at my new purse. “This is brown,” I said.

Back to the blank stare.

sigh. “I just told you I bought a pair of black boots.”

Eyebrows furled again.

“I can’t carry this,” I said, holding up the new brown purse, “with these,” I continued, kicking out my right foot, covered in a new black boot.

He started to speak, but I beat him to it. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not planning on spending all of the $200 I just saved on one purse,” I said, looking back at him lovingly. I couldn’t help but laugh, “that would be fiscally irresponsible!”

~~~

Now that I’ve solved the economic crisis, I’m working on a way to end all wars with an international cake-decorating contest and dance-off to be judged by the Dalai Lama, the Pope, and, of course, David Hasselhoff. Stay tuned!