My Greedy Son Made Me Ration Toilet Paper,So I Sold Everything

"I'm in the prime of my life! This is when I should be enjoying it!"

"You two are ancient. What's the point of eating well or dressing nice at your age? Cheap or expensive, it's all the same to you."

"People your age should be pinching every penny and saving it for your children!"

I studied her calmly.

"Enjoying life at thirty? What, you don't plan on making it to retirement?"

When she couldn't find a comeback, I kept going.

"When your father-in-law and I were your age, we were up before dawn and working past dark. We scraped and saved to keep this family fed."

"Instead of hovering over us like a hawk, maybe you should go find a job."

Bridget shot to her feet.

"You two insist on suffering when you don't have to. How is that my problem?"

"We were born in a good era, an era where parents go all out for their kids. So what?"

"Besides, my husband is happy to provide for me. I was just born lucky!"

Her shrill words scraped against my last nerve, and I decided I had no face left to save for her.

"You're right. Marrying into this family? That was your lucky break."

"But this family marrying you? That was a curse eight generations in the making."

"You—you—" She jabbed a finger at me, mouth working, but nothing came out.

"Mom, your money is mine and Phineas's!"

"As long as I'm here, don't even think about spending a single extra cent!"

She hurled that final threat over her shoulder and stormed back to her room.

I'd won the argument. But I didn't sleep a wink that night.

I tossed and turned, the same question circling like a vulture: What did I do in this life to deserve this? Raising a son like that. Welcoming a daughter-in-law like her.

The next morning, a sheet of paper was taped to the refrigerator.

The title read: Household Austerity Code.

Below it, dozens of rules crammed together in tight handwriting—

Daily grocery budget shall not exceed five dollars. Meals shall consist primarily of vegetables; meat is permitted no more than twice per week.

All water from handwashing, rinsing produce, and bathing must be collected in a basin and reused for flushing the toilet.

Bathing is permitted no more than once per week, with a maximum duration of five minutes per session.

Lights out at 8 p.m. sharp. No staying up to watch television or use phones.

Toilet paper usage shall not exceed two squares per person per use.

…

Two squares?!

My eyes went wide before I could stop them.

My vision blurred, black spots crowding in. I couldn't read any further.

I called Phineas and told him to get home. Now.

"Look at what your wonderful wife came up with!" I slapped the paper down on the table.

He picked it up and read it from top to bottom.

Then he smiled. A look of genuine approval spread across his face.

"Mom, Bridget's just looking out for the family."

"Look how thorough these rules are. Food, clothing, utilities—she's thought of everything."

Looking out for us? I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.

Then something seemed to occur to him, and he turned to Bridget.

"Oh, right—Dad's still taking that expensive supplement, did you know? We should cap that too. Add it to the list."

Harold slammed his palm on the table.

"Supplement? That's my blood pressure medication!"

Phineas arranged his face into a patient, concerned expression.

"Dad, relax. I'm not saying you can't take your pills."

"But regular blood pressure meds cost a few bucks a bottle. You insist on the imported brand—hundreds of dollars a box."

"That's just throwing money away for no reason."

I swallowed my fury and kept my voice level.

"Your father tried the generic ones. They didn't work. The imported medication is the only one that keeps his pressure under control."

"And it's not easy to get. We have to pull strings every time just to find it."

"This is the thing keeping him alive. It is not where we cut costs."

Bridget pursed her lips from the sidelines. "So dramatic."

"Medicine is medicine. Same ingredients. What's the difference between domestic and imported?"