I was initially drawn to share intimate God-time with one woman, who prayed with me for healing. This was interesting, because in the 10 years of my involvement with this evolving noetic body, I had been the only professed Christian (who, by the way, has been spontaneously healed in a prayerful environment).
Feeling pleasantly blessed, I sauntered toward the dining area, where another person engaged me with her feelings and observations. When I revealed recent self-deprecating events, she dragged me down the hall for a love-filled admonishment.
Slightly roughed up but now feeling a sense of purpose, I felt more empowered and cared about than I had been in ages. Walking three inches above the carpet, I headed toward the front door. There, the admonisher’s husband, Don, began a conversation about the eve’s events. Then with a quick glance, he caught sight of my feet.
“Whose slippers are those?” he asked quizzically, wondering if these huge flippers belonged to the guy screaming in the back room.
“Oh, they’re for guests,” I meekly replied. “We have a hot tub, so I keep extra slippers around—large ones.”
“They make you look like a clown,” he chuckled.
Sure enough, when I looked down and saw my Christmas stockings slid into oversized black slippers, I had to agree. I already felt they were dangerously cumbersome when walking up and down our stairs, but I’d never bothered to take in my ridiculous appearance.
I offered an excuse. “I washed my two pairs of regular slippers today and they’re still wet, so I slid into these. Plus they started disintegrating in the washer, and the process continued in the dryer. Some of the cardboard fell out, and now the foam is protruding.” I headed for the nearby closet to prove my claim. “Look.”
As I displayed my comfy, old burgundy slippers, Don looked from them to me. “Slippers don’t cost that much. You could go to Target and pick some up for a few bucks. Those things are shot,” he correctly observed.
“Aw, but they’re clean! I can’t just toss them.” I felt proud of my spartan lifestyle, though slightly embarrassed about being so cheap. I decided not to show him the other pair—my hot tub slippers.
“I think you should just throw them out,” Don advised.
So I ask, What’s the difference between frugal and downright cheap?
Frugal is buying a good-quality pair of slippers at a reasonable cost that have the potential of having a long life. Cheap is keeping them two years after they’ve died. I think there’s a law against that.
So, Don, the blue ones are headed for a landfill, but the worn-in, comfy burgundy ones, well, we might have to kick that idea around a bit.
Here are some comments via email:
ReplyDeleteFriend: My mom had a pair of slippers like this and used good old Duck Tape on them!! Mike [husband] likes to wear everything out too, and then some. Sometimes I want to turn some of my old clothes into rags, and he asks why I don't give them to charity. It's because they are so worn that no one would even glance at them!!
Auntie: First, good for Mike for wearing stuff till it's nearly gone. Gives "seat of your pants" a whole new meaning when there isn't one. Maybe that's why we don't get much company!
Friend: To expand on the wearing clothes until they are completely used up theme. Mike doesn't let me put his T-shirts away in his drawer, because he has them sorted in categories as to how much they are used up. From there he determines what he wears them for and when. Does he have you beat yet???
Auntie: Hmm, does ol' Mikey have the scrupulous ol' Auntie beat…well, does he arranged his T-shirts according to color as I have my daughter’s three zillion tops?
Friend: I think Mike has you beat this time—in the T-shirt category at least. He doesn't have them organized by color but definitely by wear!!