Yesterday I was shopping for work pants; I found great stuff that made me feel and look like a million. They started ringing me up for the sweater, the shirt, the sleek black pants with deep pockets.
I knew how much I had in my checking account and how much was in my currently-inaccessible savings account (I don’t have internet on my phone; cry for me later). So when the total came up three dollars over the amount in my checking … I knew I didn't have enough. I felt that familiar sickened constriction in my stomach.
And the thought began to form, “I have to put something back, because I don’t have enough -“
I opened my wallet and pulled out one of my friends. I said - out loud, much to the surprise of the sales girl at the register, “Hey, Grant! Would you like to buy me some pants?”
"Yes, indeed I would," I heard him answer in an attractively gruff voice.
I unfolded him and snapped him in my hands. Then I handed him over. Grant bought me pants!
I went to my savings account later at the bank and replaced him; I don’t think I’ll ever want to be without Grant again. Because he may look like a grumpy gills, but apparently he loves to take me shopping.