Friends in Weird Places

Allow me to introduce a friend.

This is a makeup removal wipe.  At one time, it was moist with makeup-removing liquid stuff.  At one time, it lived in a pouch with others just like it.

Eventually, all the other wipes got used up (by me) and thrown away (by me), until this was the last one left.  It quickly dried out, but I continued to keep it around, because it was the ONLY ONE LEFT.
Sometimes I’d pour a little water on a corner of it in order to have a decent way of getting my mascara off every night.  Sometimes the wipe would fall on the floor and I’d leave it there for a day or three.  It got lost on my dresser frequently.  But still, even when it looked like complete garbage, I held onto it, because it was the ONLY ONE LEFT AND I NEEDED IT.

It did occur to me that new makeup removal wipes are manufactured and distributed and put out for sale every day, and that I would very likely be able to purchase some in my fair city of Chicago.  But do you know what a package of makeup removal wipes costs?

FIVE WHOLE DOLLARS.

I mean.  Really.

So meanwhile, I have been wiping my FACE with a very old, very dirty, pretty much all-around disgusting dried-up wipe for a few months because I couldn’t bring myself, until a few days ago, to splurge on this:

It cost, like, $4.68.  It was a major decision.

Yet I do occasionally drop a few hundred bucks on new clothes and shoes because “I need them,” or whatever. 

Pretty sensible, right?

Thank you.  I thought so, too.