Abigail at I Pick Up Pennies is frustrated by “We live on one income!” stories. The MSN Real Estate blog offers cheery news about pending rent raises. Liz Weston reminds us that you can run but you can’t hide from credit-card misbehavior.
But on the bright side, Financial Samurai offers hope to guys who still live in their parents’ basements.
J. Money, my favorite wedding-gift giver, thinks that plenty of things should be rented, not bought.
Tools. Textbooks. Prom gowns. Coffins.
I’ve eaten in restaurants more often in the past 10 weeks than I have in the entire previous year. That’s not as big a deal as it seems, since in Seattle I cook almost all my own meals. Here in Anchorage, though, my hostess and I like to go to Harley’s Old Thyme Café. I’ve also enjoyed taking my muddy nephew, his little brother and his mom out to eat.
Not that I’ve completely lost my cheap edge: I often use BOGOs or other coupons that I’ve gotten from social media, the Val-Pak mailings and newspaper supplements.
Naturally it would be cheaper to heat up a can of soup. But isn’t it swell to have someone cook for you once in a while?
Can’t get ahead? Maybe your money beliefs are to blame.
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.”
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.
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?
Discovering that your paycheck won’t cover even minimum debt payments. Buying a house, or being unable to buy a house. Feeling suffocated by the (costly) clutter in your life. Wanting to stay home with the kids but fearing you can’t afford it.
All these defining moments turned spendthrifts into thrift-thrifts.
A couple of years ago I wrote a Smart Spending blog piece about what a reader called “a-ha!” moments. The reader, posting as “Bigdreams,” solicited such stories in a Smart Spending message board thread.
Some “moments” are epiphanies. Some are slowly dawning realizations. Readers variously described the experience as a slap in the face, a kick in the butt, a good hard look at oneself, a God-given wakeup call, the sudden glimpse of a bleak future.
However they arrive, a-ha! moments carry the same basic message: Something has to change.
Recently I flew to Anchorage, Alaska for a 10-week housesitting gig/visit. I generally go with just a carry-on bag, but my new neck-supporting pillow takes up a big chunk of that bag. I couldn’t stuff much Stuff into the small space where the pillow wasn’t.
A real frugalist just hates to pay checked-bag fees. Were this to have been a short trip I’d have simply used a rolled-up towel under my neck. But 10 weeks is a little long to subject my creaky neck to a tube o’terrycloth. Into the bag went the pillow and into another bag went a bunch of my stuff.
Plus some birthday presents, and some mayonnaise.
One of my earliest articles for MSN Money was called “Living ‘poor’ and loving it.”* In the essay I noted that there’s real joy in knowing that you have everything you need and some of what you want.
But what if your goal is to have more than one of everything you need, and a whole bunch of what you want?