
The failure of my savings plan
Posted Tuesday into Blunty by John Birmingham
I used to keep a bucket by the front door. No. Not that sort of bucket, you moron. That bucket we kept on the coffee table in the lounge room of the share house, every share house, I Iived in. No, this other bucket came later, after marriage and children and the sudden but related decline in my readily available funds.
This bucket was my savings plan.
Every time I’d come home with coins in my pocket I’d toss them in there. It was a small, red plastic pail of the sort you’d take to the beach to make a sandcastle with children. If I did nothing to curate the stream of coinage, the bucket would usually top out at somewhere around seven or eight hundred dollars. But if I was smart and culled the fifty cent pieces, the final value could get up near twelve or even thirteen hundred bucks. Those old fifties seemed to offer the least value for volume.
I’d fill that bucket on average every nine months. It was a great way to pay for Christmas.
But I have not filled my bucket in many years. This is not a metaphor.
I just don’t get that many coins anymore...
Dave W mumbles...
Posted Wednesday
No, I'm not loaded. Yes, I need to check my bank account to make sure that I have been billed for things (Oz joke...). It's just that coins are annoying.
Nocturnalist is gonna tell you...
Posted Wednesday
I've noticed that these days all the stashes I see have IOU sheets where people record escalating amounts they owe and then settle up every payday or two. The change jars now have just the barest scatter of coins except for payday when they're suddenly stuffed with notes.
insomniac puts forth...
Posted Wednesday
she_jedi puts forth...
Posted Wednesday