RUABelle swears that I must have been reincarnated from someone who starved to death during the Great Depression.
In the past week she has caught me:
Using vice grips to get the last three squeezes out of a tooth paste tube.
Cutting a hole in the udder of a wine in a box to pour one last 1/8 of a glass.
Stuffing my pockets full of blue paper shop towels from a Texaco station.
Bringing home four packets of peanuts from a couple of Southwest flights despite the fact that I am allergic to them.
Checking out and returning the same random CD on consecutive days at the Metro library downtown so I can park for free.
I prefer to call it “frugal.”