My husband is of Scotch-Irish descent. Now, I don't know if it's true of all Scots, but this character always says, "I'm too Scotch" whenever he thinks a price is too high, and he will do his utmost not to waste a thing ...other than time and storage space. He saves all the mayonnaise jars, assorted other jars of various sizes, coffee cans with lids, plastic coffee cans with lids, and any other container that he can get away with. Well...you get the picture. When I get tired of tripping over garbage bags full of them in the garage, I strongly suggest, at the risk of starting a war the likes of which would make WWII look like a playground scuffle, that he might take some of them to the dump on his next trip. Then I suggest that it might be a good idea to make that trip soon.
Now, please understand that I am of the ilk to save some things...but not everything. I was reared by parents born in Depression times, and I was taught not to waste. I'm fairly good at it, but even I couldn't believe my eyes today. Picture this. My beloved marched into the sunroom where I was happily listening to music by Selah while I worked on making some Christmas cards. In one hand he held a pair of his work boots. In the other hand he held a mismatched pair of sneakers. He asked me to applaud. I asked why. He told me that these were making their way to the garbage. WHAT?!! Did my ears deceive me?!! My husband is throwing away not one pair, but TWO pairs of shoes?! I asked if the mates to the mismatched sneakers had already made their way to the refuse bin, and he told me that they hadn't. They still had wear left in them, soles in tact (unlike the flapping ones on the pair that was on the way out.) His intention was to wear them in the yard....one white one with black trim, New Balance brand, the other white with what used to be Navy trim, by the brand of Fila. Pardon me... I must correct myself. Neither is white anymore...but one is rustier white than the other from the red clay, and I must say that neither shoe is in very much better shape than the sad things he threw away.
When I picked up my jaw from the floor and composed myself after a rib-splitting fit of laughter, I calmly told him that this little experience would make a terrific blog subject...and asked his permission to share this story, just in case he might find some embarressment in wearing an odd pair of shoes. He leaned back in the wing chair and asked me, "No...I don't mind. Why would I mind?" I said, "Well, I just thought you might not want me to share this with the world." His response was, "Go ahead. I'm never gonna meet any of them."
C'mon. It's not like we can't afford another pair of sneakers. It's not like he'd wear them, either, if I bought him a brand new pair. He'd wait 'til all 'the wear' has left these, and then he'd move the new ones into the 'good wear' group and demote another old pair to the yardwork set. It's a losing battle. I took my wedding vows very seriously, and truth be known, I wouldn't want to be without this goofy guy...quirks and all.