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A few months ago, one of my daughters was home for a visit when she caught me red-handed, fishing a sock out of the kitchen trash bin. Cue the accusation: I was being “tight.” Some context first. Earlier that day, she’d been pairing up socks fresh out of the dryer when she found a hole in one of my sports socks and binned the pair without a second thought.
I should stress: I really don’t make a habit of rummaging through the rubbish. I just happened to spot it in there and had to investigate. When she caught me mid-rescue, I explained my system, patiently, as any sensible guy would. I always buy the same type of sports sock.
So when one develops a hole, I don’t throw out its perfectly good partner. I hold onto it, because sooner or later another sock will wear through and I’ll have a matching pair again. She was not impressed. That’s when the word “tight” came out along with a roll of the eyes.
My daughter simply doesn’t grasp the concept. I wasn’t being tight, I was making do! And I’ll admit, it’s something of a habit with me.
Take my electric toothbrush. I’ve had it so long the battery barely holds a charge anymore. Three uses and it’s straight back on the charger. But to my mind, that’s not a problem: it still does its job perfectly well, so why waste money on a new one just because the old one’s become a semi-permanent resident on the charging stand?
I think there’s a thread running through all this: I really don’t like wasting money. During COVID, I bought a combined mains/battery-powered hair trimmer to keep the locks under control until the barbers reopened. Then I discovered my wife Suzie did just as good a job, and I never went back. That’s $25 saved on every trim.
Unfortunately, the trimmer has now developed the same affliction as the toothbrush. These days, when I need a trim, I have to faff about digging out the extension cable and running it straight off the mains. It’s not much of a hassle, and it saves me buying a new one. Once again, making do.
So here’s my question: surely I can’t be the only one with these little quirks? It would be a lonely existence to think I’m the sole Humble Dollar reader squeezing extra value out of tired old gadgets and orphan socks. Does anyone else have examples to share? Give me some ideas in pursuit of perfecting the art of making do.
Mark, I can think of a number of examples of making do, but most of them are associated with grasping pennies by necessity–it takes a little pain to save enough to matter. Like the garden fork with the cheap plastic grip that I nursed through many seasons because I wouldn’t spend $45 for a sturdy, new one with metal fittings. By holding it just right and using carefully measured force, it served perfectly well.
But I think you’re referring, instead, to the satisfying feeling of choosing to make do when we can afford to buy a replacement. Like my pair of black, Italian dress shoes. I picked them up years ago from the clearance rack at a bargain shoe store, at a deep discount. I regularly sport about in them. Even so, the uppers get light wear, but I’ve replaced the sole once, and expect I’ll do it again if my favorite repair shop is still in business.
Your lead paragraph reminds me of following my five-year-daughter when she passed a trash bin. She gave it a casual glance, then gave a double-take and exclamation when she spied some coveted object–maybe packaging that she could fashion into some make-believe dwelling for her stuffed animals? I forget, but I do remember the scolding her parents received about tossing out treasure without first consulting her. We complied. Instead, we buried it out of sight at the bottom of the bin.
Ed, I was caught like a naughty child beside that trash bin — in hindsight, it’s quite an amusing image. As for your suspicion, you’re entirely correct. There’s real satisfaction in making do, not out of hardship, but as a lightly worn badge of honour to my frugal philosophy.
On the matter of your garden fork, I took the opposite approach. Mine’s a fine stainless steel piece, with the shaft and handle carved from a single piece of wood. It’s a wonderful tool to look at, and I always enjoy handling it… the actual forking, less so.
I can’t resist reply. I’ve adopted a new approach to buying. one focused on quality, rather than price. I did buy that better fork a few years ago, and enjoy it immensely. And I’ve considered upgrading to one like you describe, but I won’t unless my present fork develops a problem.
Buying a better garden fork is a small matter, and I’m sure I could have done it years ago with no damage to my long-term financial health. But it’s evidence of a mind that’s moved beyond a feeling of lack and uncertainty about money. And that’s not a small matter.
I’m with you on the socks, I’m not doing extension cords for grooming tools.
Mike, I must admit, my wife grumbles now and then if she catches her ankle on the cable while she’s trimming… I keep waiting for her to insist I replace the clippers before she trims my hair again.
I get the last drop out of a bottle, pouring the dregs of nasal spray or a spray bottle of “room spritz” into the new bottle. Liquid soap or shampoo get the upside down old bottle on top of the new bottle treatment for as long as it takes. My wife leaves me the almost empty toothpaste tubes for my stronger fingers.
Randy, I was recently frustrated with a nasal spray. I was planning to use your trick — tipping the dregs into the new bottle — but the damned thing was a sealed unit with no screw top. I even considered taking a fine-tooth saw to it, but that’s where I drew the line on my frugality gene.
During the 1950s and 1960’s I can remember my mother darning socks and turning the collars on my father’s dress shirts. She also made some of our clothes and one time, a beautiful coat for Easter. Definately a lost art today. I think by the 1980s she had ceased doing those things as not cost effective. Years later from time to time she would make beautiful holiday dresses for the granddaughters strictly as a labor of love.
My wife has recently acquired herself a sewing machine after a TV program called The Great British Sewing Bee rekindled her interest in dressmaking. She’s planning on making a Halloween outfit for our five-year-old granddaughter as her first project. She’s said a nice dress for herself is the ultimate goal… I await the result with interest. I’m not sure if it’s a frugal activity or an enjoyable new hobby.
I do the same thing with stockings (Knee-His, if that means anything to you guys). I reuse plastic bags. I just had a pair of 20-year old travel pants, which I can’t replace, repaired.
I’m typing this on my “old” iPad, in London. I thought the battery was getting a bit fragile, but Apple wouldn’t take it as trade in. Since the new one plus cover weighs more, I kept it for travel.
I remember my mum using a little dab of nail polish to stop a run in her nylons… although that’s one frugal tip I’ve never had to use!
Paperclips. I used to snicker when my ‘old’ clients used to bring documents that were held together with rusty paperclips. The other day I pulled some of my documents out of the file drawer; rusty, corroded, gross paperclips! I guess I am officially old.👴🏻 But I’m not ‘making do’, I threw those suckers out and found me some nice shiny clips! I’m SKIing!
Going thru my mother’s papers, I’ve even replaced rusty staples.
I know, Randy, why do we do that????
Shocked Dan, absolutely shocked! Such conspicuous consumption. I’m worried about you!
Mark,
I read this post to my wife and she thought I posted it. When I get a hole in a sock it gets thrown out but the other goes into my yard work clothing bin. What does it matter if they don’t match. These clothes also contain some items that are decades old.
Tshirts worn at home only continue to be worn until the collar rips from being pulled on and off so many times. I had a sweatshirt that first the pattern stated to wear off, then the cuffs frayed, so I cut them off, when I wore through the elbow it finally rested in peace probably at the ripe old age of two decades.
We have a classic Yankee saying which goes, “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.”
David, I have a down-filled jacket that I managed to get a small rip in on the arm. I now use it in the yard, and it’s picked up a few more rips from thorns and brambles. These days, when I work in the yard, I’m followed around by a haze of tiny feathers escaping the jacket. One time I forgot to change before heading to the local supermarket, and I got some strange looks from my fellow shoppers as I left a trail of feathers around the shelves.
I do all the things mentioned here. I do not like wasting anything, especially food and always try to conserve. I applaud everyone who tries to avoid waste.
Howard, I’m right there with you on waste. I’m always complaining to my daughters about the cheap “fast fashion” they keep buying online. Timeless classics seem to be out the window, replaced by cheap rubbish that just adds to landfill.
I press 2 small pieces of soap to become a not quite new but bigger one. DH hates it.
Empty backsides of paper get used to print recipes or other not so important texts, used envelopes become shopping lists
I do the sock thing and if the hole is not too complicated I even darn it.
I just do not want to contribute to the landfill more than necessary.
cb-h, I’m also a soap presser. My wife calls them my Frankenstein bars.
Soap! I forgot. I have a mesh bag at my sink. Every time a bar of soap becomes too small and unmanageable, I replace it with a new bar. Then the old sliver of soap goes into the mesh bag for hand washing.
Jeff, my wife insists on liquid soap at the sink. I still can’t resist penny-pinching, though — when it’s half full, I unscrew the pump and top it up with water. I can never tell the difference in its cleaning ability.
For me, it’s screened t-shirts. I have some in my summer rotation that go back 20-30 years and have held up well. They just don’t make cotton shirts like that anymore!
D.J., totally with you. My year-round wardrobe is black Adidas shorts paired with faded gray screen-printed t-shirts. My favorite is a Linkin Park one I bought at a concert in Dublin back in 2007 — still going strong 19 years later!
Mark, not only do I save the sock survivor, I carefully rotate my socks (as well as most other clothing items, so they wear equally. I have a hair trimmer that only holds a charge for about three minutes; Itt’le do. The garbage bags have lots of room in them after removal from the waste basket, so I put them into the big bin, untied, so that I can add to them until they are ready to burst.
We’re not tight, my friend, we are making do.
Who am I kidding? We’re tight.
Dan, I think we’re kindred spirits when it comes to being tight! By the way, I’m stealing your bin bag hack — it’ll give my daughter one more thing to roll her eyes at me for.
Question: If you buy the same socks, how did your daughter know which matching sock to throw away? 🙂
I admit it. I’m tight about a lot of stuff. I have a toothpaste tube squeezer. You have issues with your electric toothbrush – I still use a “manual” toothbrush. The dentist says my teeth look fine. The paper from our printer that no longer serves a purpose is used to make shopping lists. There are used CD, record, and book stores in nearly every community.
I fix things or coax them back to life. We had a ceiling light fixture that stopped working. It wasn’t just the bulb. It was the electrical wiring harness. I took it apart and rebuilt it rather than replace the light fixture.
Sometimes there’s a real sense of accomplishment when you avoid the replacement cost. But that’s just me.
Fair question, Jeff. I glossed over a detail for brevity in the post: every three-pack of my sports socks comes with two red-piped pairs and one blue-piped pair. It’s a bit annoying, since it takes twice as long to find the match for an orphaned blue-piped sock 😊
Jeff,
My dental hygienist raves about my oral care, (two cavities in my lifetime at nearly 70 yo) then tries to convince me I need to use an electric toothbrush.
i🤷
I also rewired two lamps when the switches went. I think less than $1 each to repair. It’s not like I’m repairing the Hubble telescope.
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