Confessions of a Miser

Every now and then I have this gig where I take care of a dog named Sam in a suburb named Edina. Sam is pretty easy going, except when he relieves himself in the house, which happens more and more as he gets older, and when he follows you around bumping his soggy nose against your thigh, whimpering so you know he wants food or a walk or just plain love, and when he saunters off to sniff what the neighbors have got going on. Okay, so Sam's a bit of a handful, but I can't really complain because he mostly sits at my feet while I watch free cable, looks at me when I sing to him, and generally brings my heart rate down. Plus, I find I really love living in someone else's house. I am, I admit, a snoop, but that's only part of it. Not only do Sam's owners pay a nice rate for his care, but I save a fair sum eating their food too. They encourage me to eat whatever I'd like while here, so I don't feel too badly about the rows of thin mints I've eaten, even if they did have one of the kid's names on them. What they may not realize, however, is that I also borrow their products. Those who know me well know that I am a bit of a penny pincher. So every time I use their toothpaste, floss, soap, shampoo, lotion, laundry detergent, or whatever, I think about the pennies I'm saving. And I really do think about it every time. I know this confession won't get me any dog sitting gigs soon, but come on, truth be told, wouldn't we all do the same thing? Maybe it's just weird how much I enjoy it.