Friday, September 25, 2009

The Recession - Fighting Fairy Won't Leave My House

At first I laughed about it, then I started blaming it on getting older but finally I realized - there is something powerful living in my house. For lack of a better name, I call it "The Recession-Fighting Fairy". At first I think she was just visiting, but lately I'm convinced that she has moved in and it's really affecting my pocketbook.

Originally, it would be things like missing Christmas wrapping paper that I had bought on sale the year before - never to be seen again - or at least not seen until 2 years later at Easter. I had to replace it at regular price.

Then it became more prevalent; the Father's Day card I bought wouldn't show up until Thanksgiving and the Christmas cards I had stored would disappear until the 4th of July. So, of course I had to replace everything at the last minute at a higher cost.

As the recession got stronger, the R-F Fairy was more determined than ever to make me help shore up the economy with my duplicate purchases. Soon, gifts disappeared, to show up a year later after I had already purchased the same gift again. So, what was I supposed to do when I finally found the second "Happy 50th Anniversary Mum and Dad" when they were now celebrating 51 years?

The R-F Fairy has been relentless. My father's birthday is coming up and I know I've purchased a few Birthday Cards for him, but she has hid them from me. I did find the 2 Happy Father's Day cards and could possibly adapt them to say "Happy Father's BIRTH Day" card, but that seems tacky. I feel like I've more than done my part to get us out of the Recession since I'm now having to look for coins in my couch to replace my dad's lost birthday cards.

My only hope is that they say the Recession is over, thanks mostly to my re-spending. The R-F Fairy should finally be able feel proud about a job well done. Now, go away!

1 comment:

  1. I have an impressive greeting card organization system, desk supply system, toiletries organized to within an inch of their lives, but my garage looks like a garbage dump. Can I blame my genes for that?

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