victim of our frugality

we are on a pretty tight budget. We are living on one salary while paying a mortgage and a ridiculous amount of student loans. So, it goes without saying that we have to watch our pennies. anyone who knows us well will testify to the fact that living within a budget is harder for me than it is for Rhonda. (You may recall an earlier entry in which she-who-is-less-thrifty splurged on a vintage chip and dip set.)

Living on a budget means making a series of choices. This much I have learned. We cannot have it all, and in fact, we cannot have many pretty, shiny things that might attract my eye. We have been trying to find a balance between living comfortably (heat at 68? No way! too high!) and living within our means. This means that we can no longer afford to take Buddy to the groomer regularly. That usually runs 40-50 bucks per visit. Instead, we decided to do it ourselves. But we had the added hurdle of buying good clippers; we tried the cheap ones and they were crap. Expensive clippers can cost hundreds of dollars. So, we settled on taking Buddy to the amazing Marinette Farm and Garden store where you can wash and clip your dog in their facility. Less messy than doing it at home. And it only costs 15 bucks.

Today we went to give Buddy a much overdue cut and wash. It took us an hour and a half of coaxing, distracting, and immobilizing to give the damn dog a haircut. It is really hard. And despite the professional grade equipment, these non-professional hands did not render a show-worthy 'do. In fact, Buddy looks like a raggedy little dog that no one wanted. Poor, neglected dog left to fend for himself in the great North Woods.

Rhonda was very encouraging throughout the whole experience, saying things like "its really not SO bad, He looks fine, etc. " It was an hour or so later, when Buddy was dry and fluffy, that I took a look at him from the front. I almost fell out of the kitchen chair laughing as I realized that we had cut Buddy's front legs entirely different lengths. It now looks like we have a little disabled dog whose left leg is atrophied from all of the time spent starving in the woods. Or, perhaps it is a war wound. The great budgetary wars of the Lesbinger household.