The Rage Diaries

Fiscal fitness -- What did we learn this month?

Anything?

I personally learned that the Hawthorne Effect is mighty handy in keeping me from spending stupidly. I also learned that I need a lot less cash than I normally waltz around with. I also learned that it's pretty easy to whittle down the cash expenditures so long as I'm still throwing everything from gas to groceries to dry cleaning on the sky-miles credit card. Clearly, more transparency is in order. I am not comfortable sharing what we charge on the card each week, but Phil and I did agree that we're going to start keeping a log of what we charge and when, so we can see where the money's going when it's all invisible.

You all had some pretty useful observations too. They're all below the jump. If any of you are reading along and just lurking, I hope you find them useful -- or that you're inspired to share what could work for you.

Dewey, you fool! -- What I read this month

Oh, I have such good intentions. But to be honest, this month has been sort of busy with the actual, paying jobs and with the Quick!-Get-outside-and-weed-before-the-next-monsoon-hits! household chores and with the occasional social commitment or volunteer obligation. And next thing I knew, my beautiful dream of starting off the year right with my two-parter on My Time in the 000s and weekly reviews of what I read ... well, I'm now dreaming of getting off on the right foot in time for the Chinese New Year. Or later. It depends on how many other cultures have new years' celebrations I can use to make myself feel better about my time management skills.

(Note to self: see where time-management books are in Dewey Decimal system. Won't it be fun if I get all hardcore GTD on you all? No?)

However, if you'd like to read quickie summaries of the wonders to be found in the 000s, click on through.

The Y in good-bye

Today, the final issue of Y: The Last Man hit my comic book store. I can't claim to speak for all comics readers here, but reading it today was a bigger deal in some ways than finishing the final Harry Potter book or watching the final Sopranos episode. There were always long periods between books or TV seasons, but the longest I ever had to wait between Y issues was a month or two. Although the narration in Y jumps weeks or months sometimes, the fact is that the experience of reading story itself unfolded at a regular pace, easily incorporated into my daily life. Now the story is over. Next month, when I'm looking over my pull list, there will be the nagging feeling that something's gone missing.

Happily, the final issue is a proper, graceful send-off, a little heartbreaking, a lot respectful of the readers' ability to dive into the story and flesh it out in their minds. And, thank God, it's the real and true end; Brian K. Vaughn's gone on record promising that. It's a good end. I'm not the only one who thinks so. Check out Kurt Loder's wrap-up on MTV,

When paying for the lifestyle takes over your life

David and I drew up a list of my current expenses, and I was astonished by the starkness of my bottom line. I didn't make enough. Like, not nearly enough. Sure, I could cut out $3.50 cappuccinos, but my problem was much bigger than that. I always thought I spent reasonably because I shop at H&M and Target, don't own designer shoes or an iPod. Looking at my expenses, I saw that I had been living outside my means for so long that I clearly didn't have any sense what my means were.

-- "My Big, Fat, Unpaid Credit Card Bill," Salon, Jan 30, 08

Reading this piece reminded me of a particularly stupid period I went through in my post-collegiate twenties. The gap between my perception of what I made and my perception of how I could live was deep and wide. It took me three years to close that gap, pay off my credit cards, and learn to live within my means. And I was deeply, perpetually embarrassed by the problem I had created for myself.

One of the pleasant things about knowing where your cash goes is having one less thing to be embarrassed about. Given that I have so many other things about which to be self-conscious -- bad hair, terminal clumsiness, the cat hairs that inevitably end up decorating anything I wear, no matter how I lint-roll -- it's nice to have one fewer thing prompting me to wish the Earth would just open up and swallow me already.

So pretty, so cool

Got a spare hour? Click all over the 2007 Periodic Table of the Elements Printmaking Project. Some of the prints do a wonderful job of clearly conveying their elements. Others, like Niobium, draw you in and gently remind you that much scientific nomenclature comes from rich cultural source material.

P.S. The artist who did Niobium, Annette Haines, also has her own etsy store, where the print's for sale. Eeee! Exciting for art-loving science types or science-loving art types!

Poor people, poor pets

This story makes me very sad:

Across the [Boston] region, dogs and cats are arriving at shelters in growing numbers, as their owners face foreclosures and head to temporary homes, such as rental units or relatives' houses, where pets are not permitted or may not be welcome.

The separations are putting a strain on shelters already strapped for space and are making for teary scenes from Boston to Brockton, from Lowell to Worcester, as owners relinquish their longtime pets to uncertain futures. Some shelters euthanize animals that cannot be adopted.

-- "Owners Lose Homes, and Pets Suffer, Too," Boston Globe, Jan 26, 08

Nine years ago, when my sublease in San Francisco ran out, I left my beloved Inner Sunset neighborhood rather than rent an affordable place that wouldn't take Isabel. I figured it was the cost of having a pet. I may not agree with some of the choices people have made with regard to financing their houses, but my heart goes out to them for losing their pet on top of their home. And I hope anyone who's reading this remembers later on that all their financial choices will have repercussions down the line.

Where does all the cash go? -- Week 4

Last week was super-light in terms of opening my wallet:

Monday, January 21, 2008 -- a small slice of custard pie at Nation's set me back $2.18

Thursday, January 24, 2008 -- Driving across the Bay Bridge cost me $4, while parking cost me another $10, so my morning commute was $14. (This is not typical: the average cost of my commute is $2 -- possibly $2.75 if you count gas and long-term car maintenance costs. See how public transit can save money?)

So, for the week I spent $16.18.

I was all set to dip into some of my cash reserve on Saturday and buy a dwarf Meyer lemon tree for $25. at the farmer's market I go to, but the prospect of driving rain had discouraged many of the vendors from attending, and my guy with the trees wasn't there. I was disappointed -- but not disappointed enough to pay $36.50 for the same size tree at my local nursery.

There have been a few other times in my life when I've been reluctant to open my wallet for one reason or another, and most of them have been driven by one of two factors: I was saving my money for a very specific reason, or I simply didn't have a whole lot at the time. I didn't feel deprived; I felt disciplined, like I had managed to peg the critical difference between need and want. One of the money paradoxes I've identified (and am trying to beat to death) is how, when my cashflow is relatively abundant, I don't feel flush. Clearly, I function best when I have concrete boundaries against which to define need and want. If I don't have an external framework in place for my spending, I lose focus.

This month's exercise has been pretty handy in helping me distinguish when I opened my wallet from need versus want. All of you were my external boundary on this one. And I have to say, reading through your expenditures in the comments helped me figure out what I'll be focusing on next -- the stuff we charge to the frequent-flyer card.

The point to logging this month's expenditures was to figure out where the cash was going. I had not honestly expected for it to stop going so many places! What about you.

Says who?

In the months immediately following my dad's death, my mom had to buy both a new vacuum cleaner and a new car. The vacuum cleaner threw her for a loop, but it was buying the car that actually gave her the nervous shakes. As we drove home from the dealership, Mom explained why: "Your father and I had a rule: no purchases over $75 without asking each other first."

I had been married for only a few months, so the idea that my spouse might warrant full notification or consent before I spent money was a novel one. In the intervening seven years, we've gradually fallen into that habit. Today's "Fiscal Fitness" column in the WSJ, "The $500 Rule," elaborates on the benefits of the "If [X] costs more than [Y], then check with spouse" command:

This system gives both of us a sense of control over what we earn, yet forces us to set savings goals and make big-money decisions together. Because our accounts are separate, Gerry and I don't regularly monitor each other's day-to-day spending habits. But because of our spending rules, we don't need to -- setting limits on big items reminds us that we're responsible to each other for the financial decisions we make, both large and small.

Those of you with partners: do you have a limit on how much the other person can spend before you want to know about it? (And vice versa?) Those of you who are currently un-partnered: What do you think of this rule? Does the idea of being accountable to someone else bug? Or is it less frightening than the idea of having your finances intertwined with someone else?

Fiscal fitness: Other people are saying it better

One of the phrases I am endeavoring to remove from my vocabulary is "I should." Nothing good comes from "I should" -- that little phrase is the gateway to recrimination and regret. Every time I catch myself thinking or saying "I should," I have been trying to remind myself "Either do what you should already or accept that you won't and deal with the fallout."

So you can imagine how I feel about a lot of personal finance sites, many of which focus on what you should be doing. But there's one that doesn't seem to stress "you should" so much as "I did." Consider this post a prop for Wise Bread.

I get the articles delivered via their RSS feed and completely avoid both the forums and the article comments. This way I avoid both the "I should" and "you should" bugbears. Hey, maybe you shou -- COULD consider doing likewise.

Where does all the cash go? -- Week 3

Oh boy, did Macworld Expo kick me in the wallet repeatedly. And I didn't even go!

Monday, January 14, 2008 -- I drove us into the city because Phil was going to be taking up residence in a hotel for the duration of the show. It was either this or let him schlep his suitcase the 1.1 miles from the ferry terminal to our office, and that wouldn't have been right. Total spent: $4, on the Bay Bridge toll.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008 -- I was beginning to miss my husband, so I stayed late in the city and took him out for fish tacos (me) and a wet burrito (him). Total spent: $15.92.

Thursday, January 17, 2008 -- I drove into the city again, as tonight was the night the Expo released her cruel hold on my baby. So, $4 for another toll. I came in after noon, so I missed the early-bird special on parking and had to fork over $12.00. And on the way home, I stopped by Nob Hill and picked up a loaf of Dutch crunch bread to go with the chicken soup I had made that morning, spending $1.99.

So, for the week, I spent $37.91.

Here's an amusing historical footnote for you: when I first moved here, I was outraged that I'd have to pay a whole dollar a day to cross the bridge, and another $5 per day to park under the Bay Bridge at 3rd and Harrison. That was twenty-five dollars! Why, when I was living in Falls Church, I could commute to 12th and K streets for a whopping $20 per week on my Metro card! (Mostly because Metro put another $2 on for every $20 you put in, and that made the difference.) Twenty-five dollars! O, the cost! And now, it costs about $12 per day to make the same trip.

Of course, telling a story like that makes me feel old, old, old. Gimme five bees for a quarter!