Are higher wage-earners more likely to cheat? Would they write a country song about it, and should you give that genre a closer look? Do you think a country-music fan would be drawn to a blogger whose site title mentions whiskey?
Textbook sellers want to gouge you. Banks keep finding ways to gouge you. Some states are investigating potential gouges, i.e., taxes on everything from shoe repair to golf to bowling. (Wonder where they stand on the repair of bowling shoes?)
Read on for a chance to learn, among other things, how to put your children on a budget. No more free rides, kiddies.
I know that I’m getting older because I have begun to find value in bromides. That’s why I’ve decided to highlight one every so often, starting today. After all, Ben Franklin made a decent living at it – not that my site is comparable to Poor Richard’s Almanack, for a number of reasons:
Let me emphasize that an axiom is no substitute for independent thought. If patriotism is the last refuge of scoundrels, pious aphorisms are a way to appear profound when what you’re actually expressing is “Because I said so.”
Wish I had a piece of the hosiery industry in Anchorage, where you remove your footwear after you enter someone’s house. Knowing you’ll be unshod regularly means making sure your feet are decently covered.
Once when I was an Anchorage Daily News reporter I took off my shoes at an interviewee’s home and discovered a rent in one sock. It’s hard to look professional when your big toe has its eye to the peephole.
Obviously Alaska is not the only place where indoor shoe-wearing is frowned upon. People in other cultures live this way too – and so, increasingly, do U.S. residents, as a quick Internet search indicates. Sometimes it’s because they want the carpet to last longer. Sometimes it’s because they don’t want spike-heel scratches on the hardwood.
And sometimes it’s to keep you from tracking in poisons.
J. Money from Budgets Are Sexy shared a frugal tip from a reader who needed $1 to get something notarized. The place accepted only cash and the reader had zero money, “not even change in my cupholders.” Paying a $3 ATM fee for a $1 errand was just too irritating to contemplate.
The solution: Hit the drugstore for an 89-cent soda and a $20 cashback.
This is how I get all my walking-around money. I don’t like waiting in bank lines. I like ATMs even less, because I’m paranoid about muggers or card skimmers.
The most-read piece I ever wrote for the Smart Spending blog was an essay called “See a penny? Pick it up!” Before MSN Money switched blog platforms, the article had received more than 1.6 million hits.
The comments were also numerous, and about evenly split: People who also happily gleaned change and people who thought the idea was unbelievably disgusting. Pick up dirty, germy, dog-peed-upon coins? Eeeeewwww.
I’m fully aware that found money isn’t clean. But it’s not as though I carry it home in my mouth.
Besides: I hate to break it to those folks, but the bills and specie they get from banks and stores are probably just as revolting.
Want to drop a bad habit or develop a good one? You need a plan. Or, rather, you need a list.
We Americans love our lists. We especially love short lists. Just check the headlines on magazines, features sites or blogs. You’ll almost certainly see ones like “Three easy steps to lose weight/stop smoking/become a millionaire.”
Having a list makes us feel we’re already halfway to achieving our goals. Lists make us feel confident and in charge: I’ve got it all figured out! Now I just have to implement it!
It’s never really that simple, of course. If three steps were all it took, we’d be surrounded by thin, rich people whose fingers were unstained.
Here’s the only thing I learned this week that’s worth remembering: If the sun is out, mow the damn lawn. I was so embroiled in deadline that I somehow felt I couldn’t take 45 minutes off to cut the grass at my house-sitting job.
“Later,” I kept saying, until “later” turned into “tomorrow.” Except that it rained that day.
And just about every other day, until the house was the only one on the block with a prairie view. At which point it rained again.
The other day I stopped writing and left the room to go to the euphemism. (We didn’t say “potty” in our house.) As I walked out I turned off the office light even though I’d be gone only about a minute.
At lunchtime I rummaged in the fridge for some cheese, the sausage I brought with me to Alaska and the mustard. The nearly empty bottle was upside down, so the last few drops would be attainable – just enough left for my lunch.
It’s 50 degrees, breezy and raining but I didn’t turn up the heat. I just put on another layer, my fleece Mr. Rebates pullover. (Only recently did I figure out that the logo is a little bag of money wearing glasses. Or maybe it just has googly eyes.)
Welcome to automatic frugality – stuff that’s so ingrained you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Only when someone reacts do you learn that the whole world doesn’t write grocery lists on junk-mail envelopes or pick up pennies from sidewalks.
If you’re lucky, that person doesn’t think you’re a kook. If not, then the wedding is off or you don’t get that promotion after all.
Yesterday I bought three 12-packs of Diet Coke for $6.99. That is not a typo. I took advantage of a buy-two-get-one-free sale and “bought” one of the two with a “free 12-pack” coupon that I got from My Coke Rewards. I’ll be all set for quite a while as regards my caffeine of choice.
Before you hit “submit” on the Comments button, let me assure you that I already know carbonated soft drinks are not good for me. I already have a dental hygienist sister who is happy to point this out. But what’s life without a little sin?