|Nothing to see here. Just burnin' a hole in your pocket, girl.|
How was everyone's Thanksgiving?
As far as the Kellermans were concerned, it was another red letter holiday, trademarked by me eating too much, my kids not eating at all, and everyone complaining they were hungry at bedtime. I ventured out to exactly one Black Friday sale, and dragged a still-attached Mrs. Jones out with me so that everyone in the ridiculously long line could ask if she was a boy.
(This didn't anger me, as I'd been the one to zip her so totally into a hand-me-down boys hoodie, she resembled an androgynous, blue potato. Whatever it takes to get fifty-percent-off a coat.)
And while we're on the subject of deals, the drabness of winter is starting to rear its head, which means my dollar store roaming is in full swing. Some people are iffy about frequenting their local discount spot, but I'm on the other end of the spectrum. I probably think about it too much. As in...
Husband: Did you go to the grocery store?
Me: Uh, I ended up going to the dollar store.
Husband: But you were gone for three hours.
Me: You don't know my life.
At thirty-two, it takes a sizable effort to convince me to leave the house for any type of social engagement, but if you tell me I can wear my TOMs with the holes in both toes and we're going to go make it rain at Dollar General, suddenly, the world seems rife with possibilities. A delicious, bargain oyster.
Now, I'm not into public service announcements, per se, but if you've written off your local dollar store because it's probably just full of crap, I'm here to tell you...
But a lot of it's crap you can use, and I've spent a solid year experimenting with what happens to be safe crap, and crap that ends up shoved in a car's console. (That stuff's kind of awesome though. For instance, when risking your life by giving a hitchhiker a ride, it's always nice to break the ice with, "If you don't kill me, you can have the five, plastic wind-up dolphins I threw in my glove compartment.)
Paige's List of Useful Crap
1. Toilet Paper
This is entirely subjective, but my recent experience was good and two-ply. Husband had his doubts, but I switched his regular brand, while he wasn't looking, so all's well. I think. He looked at me suspiciously for a week but couldn't quite figure out what was going on. Who says 'no' to four rolls for a dollar? Not this girl.
2. Baking Utensils
Need a measuring cup? Spatula? Weird sifting thing for sifting stuff? Giiiiiiirl, if you got three dollars and some gas to get there, you could be channeling Ina Garten right now. Just make sure the milk you use is from quinoa-fed mountain goats who've been journaling their feelings on a consistent basis.
3. Wrapping Paper
Never. I repeat, NEVER buy wrapping paper, gift bags, or gift boxes from regular stores again. Once you buy your first gift box for a dollar, it's like the heaven's open and your veins are hit with some type of bargain opium.
Never mind, that was a terrible analogy. Don't use cheap opium. Or any opium really.
My current addiction, grabbing seasonal decorations at Dollar Tree makes me almost as happy as the time I threw my winter boots in the washing machine, regretted it when the banging noises hinted the whole thing was going to explode, but all footwear ended up coming out intact and clean-ish. If you leave now, you can nab...
Door hangers shaped like snowmen who look so optimistic, you want to divulge your deepest fears just so they can soothe you into some sort of passive state, facilitating the purchase of even more garlands
I own so many fake poinsettias, it's clear I have a problem. I know it. The neighbors know it. More on that later.
5. Food Stuffs
This is tricky and requires a lot of trial and error. For instance, dollar candy is generally awesome and makes me fat like any other candy. However, cookies, chips, and beef jerky should be approached with caution. If you're like me and have a four-year-old, go ahead and let them try the jerky first. Doc still seems fit as a fiddle, so I may be able to add dried beef to my list of successes.
I could go on, but I won't. Surprisingly, this post isn't sponsored by a dollar store of any kind. I'm simply a woman who's found a nirvana of sorts and dug her way out of cheap paint brushes (did I mention those?) long enough to share her joy.
And now I'm off to drink coffee out of my $1 mug.
And now that I've awkwardly made you my friend, come hang out with me on: