“Ah, it’s only been a couple months. This blade is still good. Ouch! Ooohhh… That’s a bad cut. Oh well. Just need a wad of toilet paper to power through it.”
The year is 1950. A veteran of World War II has come home, married his best girl, gone on a whirlwind honeymoon to exotic, far off Daytona Beach, then like many people in this time, picked a location and built a house. Then he’s recalled to service to go fight in a place called Korea, and never returns. His widow never remarries. Most of a century later, the next owners of the house wonder why there’s so few razor blades in the wall.
Because they owned the house for who knows how many decades and only used 9 razor blades?
If it was a vinyl, it would still count as a mint condition.
“Ah, it’s only been a couple months. This blade is still good. Ouch! Ooohhh… That’s a bad cut. Oh well. Just need a wad of toilet paper to power through it.”
The year is 1950. A veteran of World War II has come home, married his best girl, gone on a whirlwind honeymoon to exotic, far off Daytona Beach, then like many people in this time, picked a location and built a house. Then he’s recalled to service to go fight in a place called Korea, and never returns. His widow never remarries. Most of a century later, the next owners of the house wonder why there’s so few razor blades in the wall.
Frugal as heck