I have a…problem. I guess you could call it that. I don’t know that it has a name, and I’m not really sure that the title of this post accurately describes this little issue of mine, since it isn’t really so much of an anxiety as it is watching my inner cheapness creep out to display itself to me and my family.
I cannot ever choose a restaurant. I always scope the menu online and then decide that whatever dish I would inevitably choose from the menu could be prepared at home with minimal fuss for less money and would taste better anyway. Yes, the fact that I have to prepare, serve, and clean-up afterwards does rather tend to offset that cost, but those aren’t things I mind doing. And, yes, I understand that the benefit of a restaurant is that all the people at the table can get whatever they want, but I can’t help– and this is that parsimonious monster creeping about again– to think that I could make all four of those meals for the whole family to enjoy on four separate occasions for less money than that one evening of not-so-fine dining costs us.
Hence the anxiety.
I didn’t used to be like this.
Of course, gas didn’t used to cost $4.00 a gallon and a box of Capri Suns didn’t jump from $1.79 to $2.49 overnight.