(for the full story on our two weeks of stockpile-diving, check out The $34.27 Challenge)
No one could call me an extreme couponer, mostly because I'm so bad at it. Also, we live in Canada, and "extreme" just isn't a word we apply to ourselves. [Insert Canadian joke here. Maybe beer? No wait, I like a lot of American beer. Snow? Oh, yeah, they have that in the US too. Must think.]
Sure, we shop sales. We regularly go to two or three different grocery stores to get the best price. We always check the unit prices. Our menu is planned ahead of time, and we shop with a list (but deviate from it all the time. We're list deviants.)
Well, apparently stockpiling is also this:
We ate out of our freezer, fridge and pantry for two weeks and we still have enough food to go for at least another week. If that's not a stockpile, what is?
Errrr...was. Was a stockpile.
Which brings me to the second thing I learned as we ate through our stockpile: I learned, to my dismay, that we are hoarders. Small "h" hoarders, that is. Not "seasons one through three" Hoarders. Neither of us find toilet paper rolls to be particularly meaningful keepsakes.
But both of us felt a twinge as we contemplated eating some of the things we had in our freezer. Both of us thought, "but if we eat it, we won't have it anymore".
We got past our hang-ups. We ate through our stockpile. All of it. And now we're going to build another one.
The Mrs writes about housewifery, general cheapskatery, and butter. Lots of butter. Sometimes even on bread.
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