Kacie recently pointed out that the price of passports has gone up.  Here’s a helpful comment from one of her readers.

“If you don’t have plans to go overseas but might wanna go to Mexico/Canada, you might check out this thing they also now have called a “passport card.” It basically looks like a national ID card (as opposed to the local, state driver’s license IDs) that can be used on the North American continent. And it’s just half the price of a normal passport.”

The average cost of creating a website is about $2,000. I, of course, did it for much less, with a little help from a friend who got low-cost guidance from a cousin who’s a pro. Then I wondered if one could get a site designed for free. I looked on Craigslist.com and sure enough, someone was offering that service. He was a graphics student, and wanted something for his portfolio.

I KIDNEY YOU NOT

Speaking of Craig’s List, last night I gave a Bargain Junkie presentation, and asked the audience if they had scored any fabulous freebies online. One woman told of a friend who had been waiting for a kidney transplant for 6 years, and finally found one FOR FREE ON CRAIG’S LIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some good Samaritan was making an offer she couldn’t refuse. She is now alive and well with a brand new kidney. The donor is now looking for someone who needs a partial liver transplant. It strikes me as a bizarre form of altruism, but why look a gift organ in the mouth?

I left my neighborhood and went to a dry cleaner in a less genteel area.  They removed the stain on the spot, and charged me eight bucks.  I also discovered that their tailor charges half of what I pay my local seamstress.  Location, location, location.

AUTO REPAIR
We have found this same location rule to be true of auto mechanics: prices are lower in blue-collar neighborhoods, and the quality of the work can be excellent.  Of course, it takes a little time to get there, and I sometimes succumb to laziness and pay extra for the convenience of nearby shops.


SERVICE CALLS
I do stay local when it comes to household services like heating and plumbing: the big chains charge a lot more than small independent companies.  I needed to change the locks on two doors. The large chain would have charged $45 for the visit, plus $86 for each lock.  The local guy came for $35, plus $64 for the locks.  I’m not good with numbers, but even I can do the math on that one.

I will admit I got a little nervous when the neighborhood electrician arrived.  He was so old and frail that I had to help him up the front steps.  Then he forgot a tool in his van, so I had to help him down the front steps and back up again.  Fortunately, he was not charging by the hour – and he ended up doing a swell job.  This was no surprise, as he had ninety years of experience.

MENTAL HEALTH
Recently, I decided to get back into therapy.  There is nothing seriously wrong with me – except on the days that I’m a loony nutcase, which is happening more and more frequently.  I couldn’t ask friends for referrals because I’m limited to doctors on my insurance plan.  I had to scroll through over a hundred names and – after crossing off substance abuse and eating disorder specialists – I still had no idea how to narrow it down.

Then I noticed that one of the shrinks has an office ten blocks from my house.  That means I can take a nice walk, vent for an hour about the people in my life who are responsible for all my problems, listen to a kind, gentle woman pretend to agree with my warped point of view, and then take a nice walk back.  Works for me.

You can read the full review at The Simple Dollar

An old, raggedy, smelly, homeless woman wandered into this upscale fashionista environment, and asked if I could give her something to wear.  As it happens, I always put aside lots of freebies for people who buy a lot, so I brought her to that section and told her to take as much as she wanted.  She adamantly refused to take more than one pair of pants, saying “Oh no, I wouldn’t want to be greedy.”  Why did this

•    A: Touch my heart?  And also

•    B: Shame me, because if someone offered me unlimited free stuff I’d probably grab the whole lot.  

I am too selfish to live.

As with any addiction, there came a time when the bargain-shopping pleasure turned to pain. Every closet, shelf, and drawer in the house was overflowing with valuable stuff that was never used. I don’t wear the designer clothing because I live in sweatpants. I don’t use the crystal salt cellars because I rarely entertain. I don’t have the time: I’m much too busy buying crystal salt cellars. After a family intervention, I agreed to go cold turkey. I wouldn’t give up treasure hunting, but I would turn my compulsion into a business. I started selling my goodies: some on eBay, some to resale shops, some to private dealers.  

It was fun to have a little cottage industry but, like all entrepreneurs, I dreamed of The Big Score: the costume person from a film studio who would be My Main Buyer.  This person would appreciate my exquisite taste and, since they were paying with someone else’s dime, would never haggle over the cost. I would sit in the audience and think, “That’s my Escada blazer!  That’s my Weiss necklace!”

And so it came to pass. Twice a year we have a huge yard sale at rock bottom prices to unload the surplus goods. At my last sale, a young woman named Laura S. showed up and announced that she was doing wardrobe for a Dreamworks movie. Just like in my fantasy, Laura gushed over my fabulous taste, and phoned her assistant to check the sizes of various actors. She bought Anna Sui and Vivienne Tam and Armani. She bought a Coach bag and some vintage jewelry. She was in a hurry to get back to the set, so I took a check for $400. She promised to come over every month to check out my inventory.  My dream had come true: I was in business with Steven Spielberg!

The check bounced. It wasn’t just an oversight: the account had been closed for several months. I called Dreamworks and asked for Laura S. No such person. “Are you sure? She’s doing wardrobe on Santa Clause 3.” No, that film was not Dreamworks, it was Disney. I called Disney and learned that the movie had wrapped three months ago. Laura S. was a total fraud. The assistant she talked to was probably a dial tone. Laura played on my greed, my vanity, and my pathetic eagerness to be a professional shopper for the movies.  

My miracle had turned into a “be careful what you wish for” fable. It served me right, because as a secular cynic, I ought to know that miracles do not happen: just random events that usually end badly. I was, of course, furious, but I was also fascinated by the psychopathology at work here. If you’re a skilled con artist, why steal used goods from yard sales? Whatever happened to professional standards? Even criminals should aim high.  

I started leaving phone messages for Laura, sometimes several in one day. No reply, of course. We drove to the address on the check. No such person, of course. For many months to come, I was obsessed with revenge fantasies. I thought of all the things I would say and do to Laura S. if I ever ran into her: how I would make a loud scene in public and force her to pay me back.  

And so it came to pass. I walked into a lingerie shop not far from home, and there, writing out a check on the same phony checkbook, was Laura S.! Just like I had imagined, I yelled to the owner, “Don’t take that check!  She’s a con artist!” Laura looked up and said, just as sweet as could be, “Oh, I’m so glad I found you!  I’ve been looking all over for you! I owe you money!” Yeah, right.

My fantasy script called for me to escort her to a nearby ATM machine, which I did. As she handed me the cash, she said, “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m really not a bad person.” “Laura, everything you told me was a lie.” “No, I’m exactly what I said. I’m a film studio executive.” Poor dear: if she had only put her mind to it, she probably could have been: she had all the qualifications.

I did a radio interview today with the fabulous Tavis Smiley. This is what greeted me when I walked into the studio. It made my day!

•    “I couldn’t possibly wear that. It’s last year’s style!”

•    “You get what you pay for.”

•    ”He who dies with the most toys wins.”

•    “I can’t wait for the big game. What time is it on?

(This last one has nothing to do with thrifty living. It’s just something you’ll never hear me say.)