Tuesday, September 30, 2008

When the depression comes again . . .

When the depression comes again, will I collect cottage cheese cartons and their lids?  And rubber bands and string?  Will dinner be chunks of bread dipped in last week's gravy?  Will meat night be fried Spam or wieners cut in half?  Will I learn to darn our socks or have shoes repaired instead of buying new ones? Will I use the lining in an old coat to make a new blouse?Will we take cod liver oil to stay healthy?

When the depression comes again, will my fixed income dry up?  Will I lose my house and live with my children or in my storage unit?  Or will my children move in with me?  Will we give each other haircuts to save money and will beggars walk door to door for food?  Will I keep a couple of chickens on the enclosed patio for eggs?    Will I rummage through trash cans, stand in a soup line and march on Washington?  Will I lose my teeth?

Or will my life continue with a moderate tightening of the belt and instead of dinners out with friends, we will have potlucks and hot dishes made of leftovers?  Will I pick sunflowers for the table and notice that the sun is still shining?


Rabbit said...

Yes. That's what you'll do.

Theodore said...

Dede already cuts my hair (she has for 12 years). I just had my first pair of shoes resoled last week instead of buying a new pair. They look great.

Meat night could also be the neighborhood animals. We can start with Alice.

Why would you start taking cod liver to keep healthy? Do you take it now to keep healthy? You think you'll take your last 5 dollars and buy a bottle of cod liver oil pills? I bet you look at that bottle of cod liver oil pills and head straight for the Hershey bars.

I think it would be neat to have chickens. You could call them Cluck and F.... That way, when you feed them, you can use their names often. "Come here Cluck and F..." Feeding time would be cathartic. "Oh, you are such a good little F..."

I am betting dad loses his teeth first.

Hey - you still have your health. Well... mostly.

Louise Plummer said...

Yes, Dede is definitely the designated haircutter. I might even get a buzz. I stuck in Cod liver oil because that's what we used to take as kids (not in pills either). It was the nastiest stuff ever to go down a gullet. I don't eat Hershey bars anymore. Seriously.

Okay Chuck and F---are the names of my chickens. "You are such a good F--- I can imagine saying that many times a day. Or as David Sedaris says: F---y F--k. I will buy a chicken coop called the Omlet. They have a model called the eglu. (google it) You don't need much space for them and you don't need a rooster. You guys could easily have some chickens and a goat for milk. We may all move to New Jersey and fill up your basement and garage. You will be our father and we will obey you.

Rabbit said...

I'm not gonna obey Ed. I'm just not gonna do that. What goes around comes around. I'll check in at curfew, then sneak out for the rest of the night. I'll get up when I damn well please and go to bed the same way. I'm gonna call him at 2 AM sometimes and say, "Ed. The road ran out on me." Then I'll laugh a hysterical, demonic laugh.

Theodore said...

I think you two actually have it wrong. I highly doubt that "when the depression comes again," we will all be living in my house in Short Hills. I suspect those chickens will be in your yard, not mine.