TP

I returned last week after spending two weeks in Asia -- 5 days in China, 3 days in Singapore, and the rest strapped in an airplane seat approximately 2 inches too narrow for my body -- to find my wife on one of her "we need a budget" kicks.

As it turns out, one of the malignant side effects of my wife working part time is that the Dave Ramsey show is on during her drive home in the afternoon. If you're unfamiliar with Dave Ramsey, he's a guy on the radio who is single-handedly taking the fun out of making a decent living for those of us who enjoy randomly buying electronics, music, DVDs and basically all other forms of entertainment.

Every few months Erin gets the notion that since she hasn't heard otherwise, I must be carelessly tossing our hard earned shekels out the window of my car on the way to work (or more likely out the window to iTunes or Best Buy). In reality, I think I do a fairly decent job of managing our money. It's all tracked in Quicken, and it would be a completley transparent process if I gave Erin the password.

Her solution to this problem is to create a budget that she feels allows us to continue to enjoy the finer things in life that we hold so dear (like Taco Bell and an occasional new pair of socks) while saving off money for lesser things (like Grant's college fund and our retirement).

Upon my return, she presented her budget to me. It was carefully timed on her part, as I was still suffering from formidable jet lag, and I accepted her plan. She informed me that she had already begun trying to stick to her own limits during trips to the grocery store. All fine and good I told her.

Last night following a bowl of chili, I made my way to the bathroom in our house. Upon completion of the task at hand, I reached over only to find what appeared to be a roll of tissue paper hanging from the wall posing as toilet paper.

Now I have no problem with making some cuts in the name of good budgeting, but do we really need to start with low cost essentials like toilet paper? This stuff actually crackled when you waded it up and left innumerable lascerations when used for its intended purpose. It was the kind of toilet paper you'd expect to find in a locked, outdoor bathroom at a Texaco on I-40, not in your own bathroom. It featured the absorbency of wax paper and clung together with the approximate tenacity of ash. I would have been better served by using the Lifestyle section of the newspaper.

Is this really the way to welcome your husband home?