Once again, my husband and I had the “budget talk”. He talks, I listen. He talks some more, I defend. He talks some more and I say,(actually, I shout) “Fine! You do all the shopping.” He talks some more. I make a shopping list. We do this about every three months. I have come to learn the secret of his ways. He asks me to pick up things at the store for him. When he sees the bank account dropping, he’s shocked that I could spend so much money. “But you asked me to buy these things,” I profess innocently.
This is where it gets murky. “Anne, did we really need twenty two dollar after shave?
“You sent me to the store to get that brand,” I remind him. “Or the running pants?” he looks at me like it was my idea.
“Well I don’t really care if you smell good. You can run in your underwear for all I care, ” I said, feeling empowered. “Besides,” I added, “You don’t run.” I puffed my chest out. I was winning this battle tonight.
“With that money, I could have bought new lip gloss, exfoliating cream, gotten a manicure, a pedicure and whitened my teeth,” I tell him. “Now tell me who’s the thrifty one!”
“Anne, you can’t buy those things, you’ve already spent too much money.”
On Youuuu” I sing song aggravated.
“It doesn’t matter, he said seriously. It’s all one bank account.” This makes sense to him.
….Not to me! I’m going shopping!