We’ve talked enough about avarice, and how those SOBs on Wall Street should spend the holidays breaking rocks. So let’s move on.

Today’s sermon is about thrift.

Thrift is good. Waste is bad. It’s simple.

But there’s a side of thrift we don’t talk about very often, and that’s what I want to discuss today.

Is it possible to take thrift too far?

A week ago, I was raking a pile of leaves that had sat too long in the rain. I came across a bumper crop of worms.

My son, Dash, and I sometimes dig for worms so we can catch fish. We fish for fun, not to cut food bills. We let the fish go.

Finding worms is a big pain. They’re never around when you need them. Usually we end up driving to the local beer outlet, where they sell very nice worms in Styrofoam soup containers for about $3 a dozen. A couple of containers keeps us going a long time, as we’re not really that into fishing. The worms that escape the hook generally expire in the refrigerator, back there with the forgotten moo shoo pork.

Coming upon, literally, hundreds of worms was like … Well, it’s not really like anything, other than what it is. Store-bought worms are a good deal, considering all it takes to find your own. But when scores and scores of worms are right there in front of you, 10 feet from the back door, for free, how can you pass them up?

I got a 2-pound coffee can and dumped a couple of little squirmers in. Then I found some more. And more …

These were perfect worms — long, fat and slippery and full of vitality. Two or three hours later, I had a pile of them. A hundred … two hundred … Who knows? A lot. Enough to save six bucks a year in perpetuity.

Digging for information

But now what? Fishing season is six months away. How do we keep the little fellows entertained until then?

In the old days, you’d ask grandpa. Today we ask Google. By typing the phrase “keeping worms through the winter,” I came up with page after page of sites full of tips on rearing worms. Most were from ecology-minded types. They talked about using worms to turn kitchen scraps into potting soil. A worm’s endeavors produce something called “castings” that are very good for plants.

I finally came upon a site called the “Worm Digest,” dedicated to all the worm’s potential contributions to humankind. Who’d have thought!

It had never occurred to me before, but worms can save us a lot of money. Clearly, sacrificing one of these amazing creatures for a fish you’re going to throw back in the pond is a waste.

But as I read on, I began to have doubts. I began to question my faith in the virtue of thrift.

This growing sense of unease, of worrying about whether I had gone too far, came as I read an article by someone named S. Zorba Frankel. I began to wonder: Does one become a kook because he loses all awareness of kookiness? Is it like going deaf? Or is it possible to be fully aware of other people’s kookiness but blind to your own?

Am I a kook?

A neuroses begins with the first step on a slippery slope. A friend of mine gave me a simple way to gauge the descent. If you check into a hotel and look at the diagram to locate the fire exits, that’s normal, even though most people don’t do it.

If you ask for a ground-floor room near an outside door and you practice the route with your eyes closed, you may need counseling. If you drive all over the neighborhood to find the nearest firehouse, you need shock treatment.

But I’ll let you judge S. Zorba Frankel for yourself. The article is called “The Worm Composting Toilet.”

“A worm composting toilet is a beautiful thing and a marvel to behold when it has been designed well and, consequently, is operating smoothly,” the article begins. “Fortunately, correct operation only requires an understanding of general, basic worm composting and only infrequent maintenance.”

Just how infrequent is never addressed. Nor does the author spell out the steps involved.

“Operating a worm composting toilet is very easy,” the author continues. “One of life’s great satisfactions is the ability to close the organics loop in making our daily deposit at the ‘worm bank.'”

On the procedure for making a withdrawal, the writer is mum.

I leave the rest to your imagination. I will tell you, though, that the article has a section titled “The beauty of outhouses.” This is followed by one called “A few words about pathogens.”

All right, one man’s junk is another’s treasure. And if we all had worm-based privies, we’d save a lot of water and get free fertilizer for our vegetable gardens. That would save a lot on grocery bills. You can definitely make a case for this.

But the idea of a worm-filled facility in the back yard leaves me cold. It took hundreds of millions of years for us to evolve from worms into humans so we could invent indoor plumbing. We shouldn’t throw that away. Anyone who says we should is a kook.

Reading S. Zorba Frankel’s manifesto made me realize: Thrift is good, sure — but only to a point.

Over the years I’ve scolded you about spending. I’ve told you to change your own oil, buy used cars, pack your lunch, skip snacks and go without. I’ve waved my forefinger from my pulpit here in the business section.

I feel bad about that. The holidays are here. I’m declaring a moratorium on thrift until I can rethink some of my basic tenets. Meanwhile, let’s have some fun and spend some money.

Thrift has its place. But there’s plenty of time to think about what that should be — in the New Year.