#548 Thrifty

So recently I was in a store trying to buy a Fathers Day card.
They were out.
They still had lots of cards for those mid- to late-June cohabiters in the Hallmark aisles, grads, but no cards left for Dad.
Only Mothers Day gets a time of month all to itself.
But I’m not bitter. Dads endure worse than a greeting card snubbing.
Anyhow, they were out. Well, actually, not out.
Put away.
I went shopping for a Fathers Day card the day after Fathers Day hoping to save 50% on my sentiment. My dad would have approved.
One of the many values my father instilled in me in his quest to make sure I was ready for the world, was thriftiness. He knows that I love him, in my own words or those of some greeting card doggerelist, so my spending full price is not an issue.
My exercising one of his values, parsimony, is a far better way to honor and emulate him.
They were putting the last of the cards away just as I approached. And I was a little insulted. Here I was prepared to peruse countless maudlin maundering tributes and sing-songing ditties to find just the perfect one for my dad this year and there they were packing them all away for next year.
As if a Fathers Day card is something you can store away with the winter linens.
I was appalled. I want my purchased sentiments fresh, not dug out of boxes year after year like so many recycled holiday decorations.
My dad is not a turkey day placemat.
So I was forced to buy a blank card and write in my own message. Which, as it turned out, was far more meaningful anyway.
But still, I had to pay full price for the blank card. And it kind of bugged me. The card was blank. Oh sure, it had a pretty cover, but inside it was blank.
And I paid the same price as one with words.
Something is not right here. Labor cost is half. Intellectual property rights and royalties are nil. So gosh darnit, I resent paying for empty space.
My dad would have been so peeved. It just wasn’t thrifty.
America ya gotta love it