HIM: With the economy being what it is, the tightening of the purse strings has her engaged in a sneaky little game of financial cat and mouse. For years now she has raided my pants pockets of any loose change that I have accumulated throughout the day. Sometimes it’s nice to have that change…like when you buy a $1.68 coffee at Dunkin’ and you have the actual 68 cents in change. I always feel good when that happens, like I saved a dollar bill along the way.

But no, I hand over two dollars, get my change and she’s already up 32 cents. I always wondered why I never had any change to put on the bureau, it was being confi scated before I ever got that far.

In more recent times she has requested that I simply voluntarily turn over my change at the end of the day.

She placed a special cup on the fi replace mantel for exactly that purpose. So, no longer am I being robbed, but becoming an accomplice to her larceny. Each morning she inspects the cup with either cheers or jeers. “Is this all I get today?” she grouses if the pickings are not to her satisfaction. There are days that I actually cash in a few bucks for coins just to escape her muttering. A few times I actually had no change for the cup. Well, you’d think I committed a capital crime.

She asks me to sit down and commences to interrogate me about my day and if I bought anything that would result in change. She knows I never begin a day with change, so she wants to know how I got through a day without generating some coinage. “Even a small item costs, 49 cents, or 99 cents or even $1.98; where did those pennies disappear?” Once I only had a thin dime for the cup, “Not good enough” she complained.

“I’m going to have to enact a new rule.

For every day that the cup remains empty or only yields a dime or less, you must place a dollar bill in the cup.” The other day I was actually tapped out on loose change, so I put a dollar in the cup…voluntarily I should say. “That’s more like it” she announced. It has now become fi nancially conducive to plan on having some change in my pockets at the end of a day. You ought to see her in the car, digging deep down into the leather seats mining for loose coins that drop there or on the fl oor under the seats. I’ve never seen so much enthusiasm from a person as when her vehicular mining operation produces 29 cents.

I have no idea where all that change disappears. I’ve checked all the usual hideouts and come up empty. She could have thousands stashed away. It’s like that guy who peddles his bike all day collecting nickel cans, he’s probably got more money than you can shake a stick at; the two should go into business together. If she’s accumulated a signifi -cant stash, I haven’t seen evidence of it.

She still hits me up for money when she wants something, with yarn leading the requests. I love it when she goes out for lunch with her girl friends, “I need $30.

I’m having lunch with the girls. Actually throw in another $10.00; I’ll pay you back if I don’t spend it.” What do you think my chances are of ever seeing a return? That money is as good as gone.

“Anything left from that $40.00” I’ll ask her. I love the pure genius of her response: “Just a bunch of loose change… so I dropped it in the cup. You have any more to add before I transfer it?”

HER: This little game of give and take delights me, especially the ‘take’ part, but I make my serious money in the laundry.

How anyone could lose track of a ten or a twenty amazes me.

Six years ago I stopped working, not because I didn’t need to earn a check but because I was tired. Big mistake. Instead of taking orders from a boss, I now had no reason not to do the laundry, ironing, cleaning, cooking, baking, buying of Christmas gifts and birthday gifts, all of which are more challenging and diffi cult for me than an actual job, and I’m not terribly enthusiastic about some of the aforementioned. While there are books to read and things to knit, I can’t bear to waste time waltzing with a mop. Of course, since we ladies chose to burn our brassieres we now have an added layer of guilt if we don’t earn money in addition to doing everything else. So in the entrepreneurial spirit, I have devised this simple plan to make money-I ‘accept’ his. I particularly like when my friends invite me to lunch because I get the cheapest thing on the menu and hang on to the difference. Lunches put me way ahead.

But once again I have a job, and he is now experiencing the first fallout from my formal attempt to earn money.

Normally during football season, or any season that requires the throwing or catching of balls, he and our son David like to settle in on Sundays in front of David’s enormous television and consume a hot, prepared-from-scratch meal which typically includes roast beef or roast pork, mashed potatoes with gravy, a nice vegetable, homemade biscuits, and a scrumptious gooey dessert. I serve this meal to them, together with the beverages of their choice, and do the cleanup. I also serve pre-game hors d’oeuvres which range from homemade egg rolls to tasty little spicy meat pies made with a delicious cream cheese pastry.

Today they’re having a supermarket chicken and whatever else they want to throw in the microwave. Their profound disappointment has given me another great idea-maybe they could pay me to cook for them on game days. Like Tina Turner said, “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” This is a serious recession.

There is no clean laundry, and he’s going away with his speech team for a few days. The blessings just keep coming. I can name my price because he will not touch the washer or dryer, and he doesn’t know what ironing is.

So unless he’s prepared (and he is not) to buy a new wardrobe from underwear on out, I may need another coffee can to hold my stash.

Since it appears I have the heart of a personal injury lawyer, you may ask what I do with the money I collect. It goes like this, the Bible says to give to anyone who asks, and the one who always asks is him. He needs money for gas. He needs money for all kinds of things, and I give it to him, but I do charge interest, about 30 percent or so which he pays gladly because I never turn him down for a loan.

I am thrilled that Christmas is coming because he’ll need cakes and presents for special friends and colleagues, and time is money after all. He has never shopped for gifts in his life except for a sweater he once bought me that I was forced to return or have everyone think I was color blind and utterly bereft of taste.

The beauty of the system, of course, is that he gladly pays me whatever I ask because it’s an investment in his future.

That said, I really should up the interest and consider late fees.