Posts Tagged ‘personal’
Given how my dad stressed the importance of unerring, militant frugality, I always assumed that living within a strict, barebones budget was responsible.
That’s why, when the time came, I really didn’t want to buy a floor lamp at Target. Floor lamps that don’t fall apart after college are rather mightily expensive, and my financial status is not so secure that I can afford a mightily expensive floor lamp that doesn’t fall apart.
Not like that changed anything: I had to buy a lamp. Despite my personal misgivings, and my cherished personal reputation as a bit of a Scrooge, I knew I had no other choice. I broke a friend’s lamp, and now I had to replace it.
I could’ve hidden behind my excuses. I can’t afford it — that’s the truth. I’m helping you move, so cut me a little slack — I was, and they could have. It looks like it’s working fine, it’s just that the head is wobbly — it did; that’s all seemed wrong with it, even if I know better now.
I could have gone cheap — that lamp looked tacky, cheap and nothing at all like the lamp I was supposed to replace. I would have gained very little goodwill. Most likely, I’d have lost some, and nearly a friend in the process.
Sometimes, I’ve only recently learned, it’s in the best interests of even the thrifty to bite the bullet. That’s going to be a tough bullet to swallow.
A Valentine’s Day anecdote for y’all.
I’m just a big fan of post-mass pastries, as I had been for the past four Sundays.
This particular Sunday, I had finished my crumb glaze and cup of water. A mother I barely knew came up to me.
“Joseph, right?”
That isn’t my name. It’s an honest mistake, I guess. It isn’t like she did it on purpose, or like she’s a moron or anything.
“I thought I’d remember it. My husband’s name is Joseph, and I remember saying to myself that your name was something I couldn’t forget. Oh, I remember. Your name was also in ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.’ That’s it.”
“I haven’t seen it.”
“Oh, you should. The music’s just great. It’s by Andrew Lloyd Webber.” Maybe she is a moron.
Chit-chat continued, and it isn’t worth transcribing. At least until she added a stinger.
“I’d like you to meet my daughter, Naomi. She was actually in ‘Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.’”
“Really? The first run?”
She didn’t hear me and so she left just out of earshot, leaving me with an awkward-looking Naomi. Naomi didn’t seem to want to break the ice, so I did.
“I just came for the donuts,” I said.
“True dat,” she said.
That was the end of that. I excused myself politely with my warmest “Have a nice day” and my quickest pace out of the room.
I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice young lady, and I’ll probably see her once a week whether I’d like to or not. The context, however, was so very wrong.
Moral of the story? There are plenty of places to meet your next significant other and church is one of them, provided you’d like an Andrew-Lloyd-Webber-loving amateur actress with a penchant for gangsta slang.
For the record, of that I only mind the Andrew Lloyd Webber bit.
