“Good grief!” Dave Winston  grumbled the other morning as he looked at the menu at Mabel’s Grill. “I can’t believe the price she’s charging for bacon and eggs!”
    “I’m sure you’re not complaining when you get your cheque from your last shipment of pigs,” Cliff Murray  chuckled.
    “Yeah, but it’s probably the eggs that make the price so high,” Dave grouched. “Those guys with supply management always make sure they get looked after.”
    “I tell you, it’s not like the old days,” said George Mackenzie. “I mean back when I was growing up, we had our own beef, pork and eggs. And my mother preserved fruit and vegetables by the dozens of quarts.”
    “And how many pigs and chickens have you got on your farm today?” wondered Cliff, smirking.
    “And how much money does your wife make at that job of hers?” wondered Molly Whiteside as she came up to take their orders. “About $50,000 is it?”
    “Yeah, well . . . ” George grumbled. 
    “I’d guess it was closer to double that,” whispered Cliff. 
    “A hundred grand?” Molly exploded. “And you’re so careful with your tips?”
    “Yeah, but the price of this bacon and eggs!” grumbled Dave.
    “Hey Mabel,” Molly shouted across the dining room as she saw Mabel bring an order to another table, “these guys are complaining about the price of your food!”
    “Oh yeah?” said Mabel when she came across the room. “You know we’re in this food business together guys? We both have bills to pay.”
    “Yeah, well, we might have to stop coming in everyday if the price keeps going up,” grumbled George.
    “Well if you do, you do, guys,” Mabel sighed. “You like making your own breakfast, do you?”
    “Like you did when we were closed with COVID?” Molly added.
    “He said might,” Dave added.
    “You know there’s a big difference between nostalgia for the old days and reality,” Mabel added. “I remember when my mother stayed home when we were kids. She cooked breakfast for my father and he didn’t go out.”
    “Those were the good old days,” sighed George. “Mom also made supper so we didn’t have frozen pizza twice a week.”
    “You also didn’t have your wife’s $2,000-a-week salary!” Molly piped up.
    “Kind of makes a difference,” Mabel said. “Your wife may not grow a garden and can vegetables, but she adds to the food budget.”
    “I remember my grandmother had to preserve food in jars,” said Cliff. “She didn’t have a freezer, then.”
    “And she probably didn’t have air-conditioning to cool the kitchen either,” Mabel said. “Women had a schedule back then. Monday was washday. Tuesday was ironing – and there weren’t many drip-dry fabrics back then. And then the house had to be swept clean and floors polished.”
    “I’ll bet his wife still has to do the laundry and clean the house, on top of her job off the farm,” Molly said.
    “Well, yeah,” George agreed reluctantly. 
    “It’s called division of labour,” Cliff added with a smile. “He gets the house dirty and she gets it clean again.”
    “I guess you’d know since your wife works too,” Molly shot back.
    “Yeah, she does. And brings home enough money that I can afford to raise sheep,” Cliff admitted.
    “And your wife’s salary means you can afford to come here for breakfast,” Molly shot at Dave.
    “Yeah,” sighed Dave.
    “Well, I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Mabel said turning away.
    “So, have you made up your minds for breakfast?” Molly wondered.
    The guys looked at their menus again and one by one ordered the most expensive dishes available. And when it came time to pay, Molly was surprised to see bigger tips than usual.◊