I'm turning into my mother.
This morning, I caught myself cutting a paper towel in two. Let the record show that The Devil's Playground was out of Bounty Select-A-Size when The Pony and I did our shopping on Sunday. That Devil! He's quite the imp. Always baiting us with products we like, then discontinuing them to shill his own inferior goods. So we ended up with full-size paper towels.
I will not use a whole paper towel to cook a corn dog or fold around my sandwich or dry my hands or put in The Pony's lunch bag to use as a plate. And napkin. So I divided that paper towel. And I'm going to do so every morning. Because, like money, paper towels don't grow on trees.
Now I am a little old lady, growing up during the Great Depression, losing a shoe on the way to town when one of my three older brothers tosses it out the window. The only pair of shoes I'll get that year, bought on credit from the company store, the Company being the lead mine that runs the area and owns the souls of the entire three-county populace.
I must be thrifty.