Lady Beaver and Sir Domo have had to make some changes in their lifestyle in order to prepare themselves for the fatty-ass weight of a rent and a mortgage. Gone the hand-holding over the candlelit tables of tucked-away bistros, the crisp nip of the air whizzing past as they explored the hidden enclaves of the terrible city. Gone, too, the elegant soirees of days gone by where pigs-in-a-duvet were served on crystal trays.
Enter the dark, cold Winter of Saving. Indeed, they've been husbanding away their pennies and quarters, muddling about their apartment in heavy clothing and doing their shopping at Flopsco. There are some things that were easy to bid adieu to. Some others, not so much. Champagne, for instance, has proved vital fuel for the couple's self-esteem. Indeed, there is nothing quite as charming as coming across a sturdy bottle of bubbly standing proudly in your fridge, soldiering on when you feared you could go no further. You might not be able to pay your state taxes, but if you have Champy in your fridge, goodness! Life is glorious. So don't scrimp on the bubbly, bub. You'll need it in the darkness. (You will also need heavy cream, organic eggs, high-end linguine and some form of red meat. You will not be needing vanilla non-fat lattes, Happy Hour, Vogue, straight jacket blue jeans). But one thing, ladies and gentlemen, that absolutely can not be scrimped upon, that must be respected at all times, is the sanctity of Q-tips.
Poor Lady Beaver has a confession to make. Sometimes she shops for necessities at the dollar store. She does! Once Sir Domo brought home tulips only to find that his homemaker had not a vase- it was off through the tangled web of Fort Hamilton to the little dollar shop where a welcoming vessel was waiting. Toilet paper, napkins, the occasional sponge; it's easy, it's practical, it's so goshdarn cheap! We can forgive her, (can't we?) for thinking that the dollar store Q-tips might do the trick? Certainly, their TP had nothing on Charmin, and it certainly wasn't ribbed nor bedecked with nonsensical flowers, but the lovely sticks were pink and proud and only fifty cents. Ah! But La Beaver would have been better sticking a quarter in her ear, such was the horror of manipulating the budget version of the Q-tip. Wiggly, floppy, worm-like instruments that removed neither make-up nor earwax, useful only when lying in the bottom of a trashcan of banana peels and wet filters of coffee.
Scrimp, friends, on groceries, try to slurp some fruit, turn off the lights and use public transportation, but by all means do not compromise on spelunking equipment for your darling eardrums!
