Shelley Terry: Hubby's got the Midas touch

In the spin cycle, my old washing machine sounds like a helicopter landing.

Death is imminent, but Hubby doesn’t want to buy a new one until rigor mortis sets in. 

Faithful readers may recall Hubby doesn’t like to spend money and keeps a firm grip on his wallet.

Co-worker and friend, Warren Dillaway, said if Hubby was really that cheap, he would make me go to the laundromat.

I said, “He did make me go to the laundromat during our first five years of marriage!”

Warren laughed, but there was more to the story and it involved Warren! 

It must have been around the year 2002, when Hubby saw a photo that Warren took of an Amish woman hanging laundry on the clothesline in the middle of winter. 

Hubby cut out the photo from the newspaper, taped it on the refrigerator, and said something to me like, “See how lucky you are!” 

True story.

But what I don’t mention enough is a Hubby is hard worker.

He’s had a job since he was 12 years old. He lived near a campground and he mowed lawn and cut down cattails from the pond.

Soon after, he worked milking cows and baling hay for a nearby farmer .... and the list goes on.

I remember our junior year of high school, Hubby fell asleep in civics class and the teacher hollered at him and embarrassed him. What the teacher didn’t know was Hubby got up at 5 a.m. to milk cows, went to school and then worked second shift at a local factory until 11 p.m. five days a week. 

The incident made me mad at the time and I couldn’t understand why Hubby didn’t tell the teacher why he fell asleep. But, after nearly 20 years of marriage, I have figured out that’s just the way he is. 

These days, instead of work, we mostly talk about upcoming retirements (in a year or two) and what we are going to do when we retire.

I want to take our camper and head south for the winter. I picture sunny days lounging on the beach, out on the boat, visiting with friends and cousins in South Florida and spending more time with Dear Daughter, Delightful Granddaughter, Handsome Son and Lovely Daughter-in-Law. 

Hubby says he wants to take our camper and head south for the winter, but he’s already lining up “jobs” for me. For example, he wants me to set up a table and sell jars of honey. (Faithful readers may recall Hubby is a beekeeper — again, he’s always working.) 

He also plans to sell all of the stuff he’s collected in the past 64 years. (Faithful readers may recall that when Hubby goes to the dump, he returns with all sorts of treasures, such as broken vacuum cleaners, broken fans, etc., claiming he will fix them and sell them at a later date.)

So, last weekend, we were discussing these plans. I insisted retirement is a time to enjoy life, travel the world and spend time with friends and family. He countered we will need to make extra money to do all the things I want to do and he knows exactly how to do that, but it involves a little work.

To prove his point, Hubby set up a  table on our tree lawn and put out a few jars of  honey. He also carried out several empty plastic barrels he had stashed amongst his treasures, and two crossbows from his stash of hunting supplies — all to prove that his stuff isn’t junk and he can make money even when we retire.

I scoffed. 

I figured he would sell a couple jars of honey and a barrel or two. I seriously doubted the crossbows would go. 

Three hours later: Hubby made close to $1,000.

I was amazed. 

He was delighted.

“You’re like King Midas, everything you touch turns to gold,” I said. 

Hubby was happy, happy, happy. 

A week later, I’m still in awe. 


In a couple of years, faithful readers just might find staff writer Shelley Terry selling jars of honey outside a laundromat in South Florida. 

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