Last month, I served dinner on paper plates with plastic forks from the dollar store. Not because we were moving. Not because we were camping.
Because my husband, Derek, said we had to “cut back.”
He stood in the kitchen, holding a spreadsheet like it was the Bible.
“Look at this,” he said, tapping the paper with his finger. “We’ve been overspending. Big time.”
I looked down. Boxes. Rows. Colors. Numbers. All highlighted like a high school project.