Freakonomics

Grandma likes to tell a story about her mother, Lisa, that Lisa herself used to tell Grandma as a child:

When Lisa was a little girl she was sent to live with HER grandmother because of a volatile evil-stepmother situation.  Every week Lisa's father would visit and at some point would disappear with her grandmother and go over the ledger, what Lisa's father owed her grandmother, from clothes to food, all the way down to a hair ribbon (ten cents.)

Grandma reports how hurt Lisa was each time they balanced these accounts, and to hear Grandma tell it you'd think they were her own hair ribbons being tallied!  Trans-generational wounds are hard to heal, and yet it seems that heartache isn't the only thing Grandma has in common with this story: she's got a mean streak of irrational (bordering on emotionally abusive) penny pinching herself!

The other night she knocked on my door and asked about a buzzing noise she heard coming from the basement. Also, she said she saw a light on.  Ignoring the part where (even though I wasn't there at the time) she's peaking and listening in on "my" space, I guessed that these were from my computer, and Grandma (who knows NOTHING about computers) asked suggestively "are you SURE that's GOOD for your computer?"  Quite sure, Grandma.  Quite sure you don't care about the welfare of my electronics, either! She's more interested in the electricity bill that was $8 more this month than last month (but can't seem to factor into this equation the two oxygen concentrators she uses constantly...)

And that's small potatoes compared to what I found when I was looking for some fancy napkins.  Grandma is throwing a party tonight, so we've been preparing for two weeks straight at this point.  Illinois raised their liquor tax at the beginning of September and as a result we've cut back on scotch and wine (it's almost like living in Pennsylvania again!)  She was in Wisconsin last week and because their liquor is cheaper stocked up with a case of wine for the party and a bottle of scotch.  Like I said, we've cut back (and she can't even OPEN the damn things without my help) which is why I was so shocked to find a half empty bottle of JB hidden in the dining room.

I'm not the liquor police!  It's not my job to say "no" or reprimand her.  She's a grown up and if that's what she wants to do with her time and money, far be it from me to judge, but damn, Grandma!  When you're jealously guarding your cheap booze from a granddaughter who could care less you clearly have more deep seated issues to deal with than meets the eye.  Most of us learned how to share in kindergarten.  Just sayin'.

Makes me rethink all those crocodile tears over hair ribbons.  At least THAT old lady was being honest about her accounting, rather than stretching it out passive aggressively over time and in secret.  I wonder how many cocktails Grandma's tallied against me?