MONEY AND THE SQUIRREL THAT CACHED IT

Okay. So I have money issues. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I have trust issues. My life experiences so far have taught me that the universe is a spinning roulette table and the world, a blue green marble skipping capriciously as a stone on water. As a result, I have learned to save for not only for a rainy day, but for a rainy decade. I have been saving money for the past five years. And since I lead such a boring -errrp I mean, modest lifestyle, I have this pretty little speckled nest egg in the bank. I suppose I could just scramble the motherfucker, but instead I am saving it for graduate school and a cozy red weathered wooded house on the beach. In any case, it’s in the bank and I shouldn't worry about it. I shouldn’t even think about it. But I do. Especially when it’s taken from me.

Don’t misunderstand what I'm saying. I am not a stingy person. I totally enjoy buying the finest for those I love and I always tip twenty percent. I guess it’s a perceived value thing. For example, I am willing to shell two hundred dollars for a small set of fancy pants designer knives that will probably outlive me but when a menu prices a plate of vegetarian Pad Thai at fifteen dollars, I can’t help kick up a fuss. I mean, the ambiance is nice. I like the carved wooden elephants especially. But eggs and bean sprouts do not cost fifteen friggin dollars.

Listen to me! I sound like a crotchety old penny pincher! Get any closer Bub, and I’ll pinch you too.