My sister told me I wouldn’t want to sell my possessions to survive. I’ve read O. Henry. I know what happens when you start selling things off; you end up with a watch fob and no watch, and a hair comb with no hair to put it in. I don’t accumulate stuff just for the sake of having it. I’m not a compulsive shopper
like some people. There’s not much to sell.
I’m not wasteful. Our box spring and mattress is 17 years old. My carcass still feels pretty good when I snuggle under the covers. In the morning, my bones are a little stiff and achy. I wonder if a new box spring and mattress would relieve that.
The descendants are in need of a couch. I am giving ours to them. We’ve had it a while. It only has two seat cushions. I lobbied for a sofa with three, for durability and comfort, but nobody listens to me. Here we are, 5 years later, with a sagging middle. Don’t blame me.
I will make these purchases from my savings. It will make me sick to my stomach to spend the money because we may have to eat cat food someday. If that day comes, I’ll sell the couch.