Finding the Raw Materials - My Adventures in Frugality for Freedom

This Saturday was the day I was supposed to change everything. Or start changing everything.

The ONLY farmer’s market I could find nearby operated one Saturday out of every month. Odd, I thought, but I thought I made it understood that we’d be going together to get infos.

The day dawned and Hubby volunteered to look after the kids whilst I ventured forth on my ownsome.

Like shit, I said, and bullied the kids and my main squeeze into coming along.

To an event that had shut ages ago from lack of interest. The webmeisters in question had evidently failed to notice. Yeesh.

Far be it for me to admit defeat. I went scavenger hunting for big, foam boxes that the BigBoxmarts tend to throw out.

Turns out they arrive Sunday. Fury.

Still, I managed to talk the nice folks into reserving me three of them and I plan on striking five seconds after the doors open.

Hubby, meanwhile, bought a shitton of perishable and frozen goods as an excuse not to be roped into further adventures.

I took mercy on him and went on a pricing expedition to Big Garden Chainstores B and M. I hit M first, because it was newer. Turns out Big Garden Chainstore M is interested in selling one all SORTS of semi-useful and decorative crap for both indoors and outdoors. The garden section is relatively tiny, but their big bags of rocks and sources of mesh are relatively cheap.

B had the bigger gardening section and was actually willing to sell one some varying items needed for hydroponics… but they had no hydroponics-for-idiots starter kits. Just separate items for a whole ton more. Big Garden Chainstore B loves selling items separately, they get more money that way.

Next, I tried the long shot, the biggest dollar shop in the area. It used to sell all sorts of Demtel crap at much less than the easy-installments-of-X tallied up to.

It had been a long time since I’d seen any dollar shop selling Demtel-associated gadgetry, and this visit was no exception.

Maybe Demtel (and its relatives, you know the sort “but wait! There’s more!”) realised they were loosing their hats by selling their shite directly and stayed on the late-night television-only advert circuit. I dunno.

Still, at the end of the day, I know where to strike, come the morrow.

If you can imagine a plump, frumpy commando ninja who cackles occasionally and talks to herself… that would be me. Whisking from A to B to C with a gleeful little scamper and a lot of lookers-on wondering who that strange, lumpy ‘tard was.

And as soon as hubby lurches into wakefulness, that day, I’ll have my mats ready. All I’ll need from him is some fresh garden biomass (You’d know it as “lawn clippings”) to feed to the compost-tumbler and turn into industry-free high-quality potting soil