A Penny Saved Puts You in Control

A Penny Saved Puts You in Control

Wait! That's not a penny, at all. That's an old package of Plasticaware. For one thin dime, 1/10th of a dollar, you, too, forty years ago, could have wisely purchased this box of ten (count them, ten) THROW-AWAY plastic spoons! Unlike this frivolous shopper who paid a dime for only eight (8) Plasticaware disposable spoons. (Where were standards?)

Did I find this during one of my thrift shop forays? Oh, no. My dear friend, who is generosity to a fault. discovered that his current instant coffee spoon had to be replaced because it had become unwieldy. He said the box was in his 'junk' drawer. (Junk drawer. Oh, please. Jeesh! He's a real beginner at junk drawers. I could show him a thing or two on what goes into a junk drawer.)  -- but, I digress.


And, there it was, there were still two (SEE! Count them. ONE, TWO.) spoons left in the box! What? Over forty years? That's changing a spoon every -- oh, Lordy, don't help -- every, five years. Whether needed, or not!

But, wait, there could have been some overlap or inadvertent early destruction of a plastic disposable spoon that would have required immediate replacement, setting the rhythm all akimbo, creating chaos in the natural flow of junk drawer life -- that is, in plastic spoon replacement terms. What could have caused the need to replace it, now? This isn't even a year that ends in 'zero' or 'five,' a sensible way to keep track of rotation. I'm not even going to discuss how the box survived, intact, over countless moves. From this bird's eye view, the green spoon would be considered quite serviceable by most anyone, giving it a cursory glance.

 But, from the side, the problem reveals itself so as to leave no doubt. Retirement was necessary. And, I will say that, in all graciousness, it was the day after St. Paddy's Day that the deed was done.

Alas, it was so severely bent from five years of being whirled in boiling water that, finally, entering the small jar of instant coffee below the upper shoulder would cause it to catch and scatter its contents just before rising above the rim. An unforgiveable sin for a bowled utensil.

I would like to say that the ninth spoon was removed from the above box to begin its five year's service, but, that was not the case. Lo! In that same junk drawer was a drifter, a loner -- a free soul, if you will -- a white knight orphan plastic spoon, although bruised from unknown battles and origin (no box or wrapper), still capable of performing its most basic of duties. The ninth and tenth spoons could relax and continue to keep each other company until the need for service presented itself, again.

With this tale, I have thrown down the gauntlet to Frugal Tractor Mom, a fantastic lady with a blog chock full of good old-fashioned common sense and more great ways of saving pennies.  I will end by saying that my dear friend, whilst fully understanding how to get the most out of every dollar spent, enjoys life to the fullest. That's what happens and that's being in control of your life.