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My plan for purchasing a new car

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Build Your Own MiniIt's funny. Fifteen years ago, daily personal finance was a chore for me. I didn't understand how to go day to day making smart choices that were aligned with my values. I wasn't even sure what my values were!

Today, things are much easier. Sure, there are challenges. Sometimes I make poor choices. But mostly, what I spend aligns with what I want out of life. (With the caveat, of course, that who I am and what I want shifts over time.)

I'm glad I've developed good habits. Right now, it's keeping me from making a rash decision. For most of 2019, Kim and I have both been fighting the new-car itch. The old J.D. would have succumbed by now. This year's model still does dumb things like spending hours building custom cars on the Mini website, but so far I'm not scratching that new-car itch.

Instead, I've come up with a plan, a path to a car purchase. And Kim has come up with a plan of her own too.

My Plan for Purchasing a New Car

“Look at this,” I told Kim a couple of weeks ago. I carried my laptop over to show her my latest Mini design: a super-powered orange convertible that makes no sense for our lives.

Kim shook her head. “You've got to stop going to the Mini website,” she said. “And you especially have to stop using that build-your-own-car tool. That's dangerous.” She's right.

Earlier this week, as Tally and I strolled through the hills and picked blackberries, I did some serious thinking about if/when I should get a new car. I think I've gained some clarity.

Sure, if I cashed out some of my investments, I could justify making this purchase today. But, as I learned last year, this sort of action carries a huge tax consequence. If I sold investments to buy the car, I'd effectively be paying a 15% premium to make the purchase. I'm not willing to do this.

Plus, it's hard for me to rationalize paying so much for a new car. It's crazy how expensive vehicles are these days. (Do I sound like an old man yet?)

Speaking of being an old man: The one thing that even allows me to consider a new new car is that I'm getting older. I'm fifty. It's highly probable that if I purchased a new vehicle, it'd be the last new-vehicle purchase of my life. (I tend to keep my cars a long time. I can see that at 67 or 70, I'd buy another used car because a new Mini would last me until then.)

While the dog sniffed the roadside for rabbits, I formulated an actual plan for buying a new car. I decided that there are three conditions that would lead me to make this purchase. From least likely to most likely, those conditions are:

  • Interest rates on auto loans drop low enough for me to justify making payments. As I said, I don't want to cash out my investments to buy a car. My monthly income has reached a level where I could conceivably use part of it to pay for a car, but I don't want to pay a lot of interest if I do. Right now, the U.S. national average for a 60-month loan is 4.21%. That's too high. 0.0% would be low enough, obviously. But at what level would I be willing to take out a loan? I'm not sure. I think 2% may be too high, but 1% is okay.
  • My current Mini Cooper dies. My car has had a couple of major repairs since 2016, but mostly it runs fine. There's no rush to replace it. But if it were totaled in an accident (heaven forbid!) or if something else major were to go wrong, well then I'd consider moving on to a new car.
  • I save enough to pay cash for all (or most) of a new vehicle. GRS is starting to make more money. Not a lot — not like in the olden days — but some. I plan to set this aside in a car fund. Meanwhile, whenever I get lump sums, I'll stick that money in the car fund too. (I'm negotiating a project that might give me roughly $15,000 — if it ever happens.)

If any one of these three comes to fruition, I'll do pull the trigger. I'll buy a new car. (Unless, of course, I manage to shake this new-car itch for good. But that's unlikely.) In the meantime, I'll make do with the two vehicles I already own: my 2004 Mini Cooper and my 1993 Toyota truck. I like them both and they run well. They're good enough, you know? [Read more…]

Spare change: Awesome articles from elsewhere

Why are men still expected to pay for the first date?

The thing that's probably blowing a hole in your budget

The problem with early retirement [THIS IS AN EXCELLENT PIECE]

Financial independence does not equal success in life

"Is it a bad idea to borrow $1000 from my friend?"

Everything you need to know about buying plane tickets

How people of different ages invest [infographic]

A comprehensive guide on how to have a good experience traveling by air

The worst question you get when applying for a job (and what to do instead of answering)

The NY Times on the "subscription economy" [interesting, but possible paywall]

Find an archive of all past spare change links on Pinboard.

State of the blog (and: Introducing Apex Money!)

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Okay, enough with the navel gazing! I've been very introspective around here lately. While that was necessary (and cathartic), it's time to get back to work, to turn our attention to money once more.

Before we begin, though, let's talk about some changes to my workflow. Mainly, these will affect me, but they'll indirectly affect GRS readers too.

Refining Get Rich Slowly

As most of you have gathered by now, I'm going to shift how I approach my writing schedule. As in: I'm not going to stick to a schedule. I'm not going to feel pressured to publish. Instead, I'm going to write what I want, when I want. I think we'll all like the results.

As part of this change, I'm going to be less frenetic, less scattered about my writing. For instance:

  • Normally, I have several articles going at once. I “parallel” process. But we all know that multi-tasking doesn't work, right? I'm going to shift to “serial” processing my articles. I'm going to focus on one piece at a time. I'll still read and collect info about other subjects, but when I start writing something, I'll keep writing that piece until it's done.
  • This change will also allow me to do deeper dives into subjects. For instance, I've been interested lately in mortgages for retirees (especially for early retirees). I'm doing preliminary research on an article right now. When it comes time to actually write the piece, I hope to interview brokers and other experts. When I do deep dives, there may be longer lulls between publish dates.
  • To compensate, Tom (who handles the business side of GRS) and I are exploring other ways to provide material as my publishing pace decreases. That means featuring more guest authors. It may mean bringing on staff writers. And it may mean partnerships with other, established sites. (For instance, we've been talking to NerdWallet about republishing one of their articles each week.)

I've thought a lot about these changes. I've talked them over with people in Real Life. This new approach feels much healthier than my old one. (And, in fact, it's pretty much how I was doing things at Money Boss before I re-purchased GRS.)

I'm also going to make sure I set aside time every week for fitness and friends. Since moving two years ago, I've let both of these parts of my life atrophy. That's no good. By making them priorities once more, I think I'll be happier and more productive.

And here's one final change to my work life: Although it might seem to go against everything I've written lately, I'm partnering on a new site: Apex Money, which curates top money stories every day.

Introducing Apex Money

As some of you know, I've long longed to create an “aggregation site” that collects the best articles about money. When I re-purchased Get Rich Slowly eighteen months ago, I kind of thought that's what I'd do here. But I didn't.

Instead, I implemented the “spare change” section on the home page, which is continuously updated with links to interesting money stories I find from all over. Then, in my weekly email, I pick a handful of these links (usually three to five) as my favorites from the past seven days. Newsletter subscribers love it.

Well, when Rockstar Finance — a popular curation site — went dormant recently, my buddy Jim from Wallet Hacks asked if I'd like to collaborate with him on something similar.

The birth of Apex Money, pt. 1   The birth of Apex Money, pt. 2

This seemed like a no-brainer.

Jim and I have partnered together many times in the past (most notably on the Personal Finance Hour, a proto-podcast we hosted for most of 2009). With him handling the tech side of things and me focused on content, we're playing to our strengths. Besides, I'm already doing most of this work already!

So, we tested the concept privately to see if it'd work for us. After ten days worth of curation, I feel confident that I can do this without getting overwhelmed. It takes me an extra 15-20 minutes per day to write each Apex Money post. More importantly, it's fun. I'm having a great time whipping these up. There's no pressure.

Note: Jim and I aren't the only ones with this idea. Zach from the excellent Four Pillar Freedom just started his own curation site: Collecting Wisdom. I've subscribed already.

Anyhow: If you'd like to get a daily dose of top-quality financial advice, you should bookmark Apex Money. (Or, if you prefer, subscribe to our email newsletter.)

Don't feel obligated, though. All of the money links I bookmark show up in the “spare change” section here at Get Rich Slowly. The best each day make it to Apex Money. Then the best each week make it to the GRS Insider that I send each Friday.

In the meantime, stick around Get Rich Slowly as we continue to master our money (and our lives) together. It's great to have you along for the ride.

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Identity economics: Who are you? And how does it affect your spending?

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MTG card“Who are you?” my cousin Duane asked me on Saturday afternoon. We'd spent the day playing nerd games together and were taking a break for pizza.

“What?” I said. I wasn't expecting a philosophical question over supper.

“I don't think you know who you are,” Duane said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I don't think you know who you are,” he repeated. “You write about money and frugality, yet you spend $200 on dinner.” Duane was referring to the fancy meal we'd had in May at a Michelin-star restaurant in France. I knew it had been bugging him, but he hadn't said anything about it until now. (And that meal cost $267.41 for the two of us, not $200.)

“You paid $1900 for your used pickup, but you don't wash it. It's filthy. You buy new clothes that you don't need, but you leave your old clothes on the floor so that your cats pee on them.” It's true. Kim and I have a cat that will, from time to time, pee on my clothes.

“You say you don't like attention, that you don't want to be a celebrity, yet you're always taking on new work that puts you in the spotlight. You're thinking of doing a course for Audible, for instance, and you're talking about doing more speaking gigs — even though you hate speaking gigs,” Duane said.

All of these things were true. I couldn't argue.

“Who are you?” Duane asked. Well, that's a mighty fine question, Duane. That's a mighty fine question. [Read more…]

Why “follow your passion” is bad advice

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When I sat down to take my AP Computer Science exam at the end of high school, I knew it would be bad. As a class, we had no idea what we were doing for the entire year. Our teacher was in his last year of teaching and had already given up on us.

We entered the gym hopeless, a ragtag bunch made up of students who really just wanted to avoid taking statistics. The test began, and immediately three boys in the first row put their heads down for a nap.

I stared blankly at the first free-response question:

“Recorded sound often begins with silence. Write the method trimSilenceFromBeginning that removes the silence from the beginning of a song.”

If Spotify were trying to get free labor from high school students in a hot gym, pencils scratching desperately, they were out of luck. I gave each question a half-hearted attempt, then passed the rest of the time writing sonnets in iambic pentameter. (At least they were computer science related!)

To my utter lack of surprise, I received the lowest possible score.

Based on this experience, I could have easily concluded that coding wasn’t for me. Maybe I didn't have a “logical” brain since it just didn't click with me. Maybe instead I should major in something that came easily to me, like psychology or English. I could have left computer science to someone who was naturally good at it, writing open source software in her free time and geeking out over dependency injection.

But I didn't.

Today, I am a software engineer because I didn't just “follow my passion“. I made it happen.

Woman Studying

Why “Follow Your Passion” Is Bad Advice

There are two theories about following your passion when choosing a carrer.

  • The “fixed” theory of passion posits that for every individual there are core passions that are set at birth. These natural inclinations are just waiting to be discovered. This is the one we trumpet from graduation podiums, encouraging young people to “follow your dreams!” and “do what you love!”
  • On the other hand, the “growth” theory posits that passions are cultivated over time. This idea is that passions are nurtured, watered by continuous work.

It might be slightly less inspirational shouted from the rooftops — “Do whatever. If you work hard, you will like it eventually!” — but the growth theory is great news for those of us who fail something the first time. Rather than waiting around for passion to show up, we can take matters into our own hands and make our own passion. [Read more…]

Playing with fire: Words of wisdom from Vicki Robin

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During my recent two-week break from blogging, I wasn't just focusing on my mental health. I did a couple of television interviews. I continued to hammer out details for a potential major project (details soon, I think). And last Monday, I drove to Seattle to attend a screening of Playing with FIRE, the new film about financial independence and early retirement.

I was impressed with the turnout. I thought that maybe 100 people would show up. But the local Choose FI group stepped up their game. The theater — which reportedly contained 278 seats — was packed with an enthusiastic audience.

Although I've seen the film before, this was my first chance to view it on the big screen. I thought it looked great! (Even the parts with me.)

And again, I was impressed how the movie, which is ostensibly the story of Scott Rieckens' journey of discovery, really belongs to his wife, Taylor, who has to overcome her skepticism (and fear) in order to adopt a leaner lifestyle.

After the screening, I participated in a Q&A panel alongside Scott, Taylor, and Vicki Robin, who is one of my personal heroes. I was so interested in what Vicki had to say, in fact, that I whipped out my laptop to take notes!

What follows are some of Vicki's thoughts — and my responses now that I've had time to think about what she said. Most of this is from the Q&A panel. Some of it comes from a conversation earlier in the evening.

Taking Notes [Read more…]

Are phones a necessary evil?

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I hate phonesI hate phones.

I hate answering phones. I hate making phone calls. I especially hate doing business by phone. Maybe it's a part of my social anxiety, but I will go to great lengths to not use my phone. (The phone “app” doesn't even live on the homescreen of my phone!)

If I ever have a question for my bank, for instance, I will get in my car and drive to the bank before I'll pick up the phone.

Kim thinks I'm crazy. She's just the opposite. She loves the phone and prefers it to doing business in person. Every week, I listen as she makes two or three calls and uses her charm on customer service agents. I have no charm, and I hate the phone.

Let me give you a more detailed example of why I find phones frustrating.

As a non-phone guy, it makes me sad that some of my friends are very much phone people. If I text them, they phone me back. If I send them email, they phone me back. *sigh*

Welcome to Purgatory

Last autumn, before my trip to Europe, I inadvertently signed up for the Oregon Health Plan. I had been filling out online forms to research an article, and apparently one of the forms that said it was informational only was actually a real, genuine application.

When I returned from Europe, I found that I was enrolled in my state's low-income health plan. Oops.

“You need to call to correct this,” Kim said.

“I know,” I said, “but I hate the phone.”

“Do it anyhow,” she said. I dialed the customer service number. Then I sat on hold for 45 minutes before becoming so frustrated that I hung up and went on to other things. A week later, the same scene repeated itself. And the next week too.

After a third session of waiting on hold, I'd had enough.

“This is why I hate phones,” I said to Kim. “You wait on hold for an eternity. It's like you're in purgatory. When you finally get through, nobody knows the answer. I'm over this. I'm going to go find somebody who can help me.”

I drove twenty minutes to a government office, where a pleasant young woman listened to my story. “I can help,” she said. Ten minutes later, my problem was solved.

I texted Kim: “It took me less time to drive down here and get this solved than it did to wait on hold for nothing this morning.”

And I can almost guarantee you that if I had actually reached somebody on the phone, it wouldn't have been the right person. I would have been shuffled around — and left on hold — several times before somebody would have been able to help. That's how it always goes.

From my experience, it's almost always more effective to speak to somebody in person than it is to handle business by phone. If I have a question for a company or government agency, I do my best to stop by an actual office to ask it. I prefer the face to face contact. It's quicker and produces better results.

Sometimes, though, the phone is a necessary evil.

A Necessary Evil

This morning, I was doing my end-of-month finances. I noticed a charge this week from Avis Rent-a-Car. “That's strange,” I thought. “I haven't rented a car recently. Is this from my rental in France?”

I did a quick search of my transactions to find two recent charges from Avis:

Avis Charges

When I rented the car in France, I did so with Chase Ultimate Rewards points. No cash changed hands. When I returned the car, the man who checked me in told me everything was fine. No damage. I was under the impression that I didn't owe anything else.

That said, it's possible that I inadvertently broke some law or other while driving around Normandy, Brittany, and Paris. Maybe I used a toll road without knowing. Maybe I ran a red light that was photo enforced. Maybe Paris has congestion charges like London. Maybe I was speeding somewhere that I ought not have been speeding. I don't know.

I tried to follow all of the rules. Plus, I drive like an old man. But that doesn't mean I didn't make a mistake.

So, maybe these charges are due to some error on my part. But it's also possible that I'm getting screwed over by Avis. The problem is that other than these two charges to my credit card, nobody has contacted me to let me know what's going on.

With a heavy sigh — and a complaint to Kim — I called Avis.

I'm pleased to report that I didn't have to wait long for a customer service rep. (Maybe because it's early on a Sunday morning?) Unfortunately, all Ed could tell me was that both of these charges are “administrative fees”.

“What are administrative fees?” I asked.

“They could be any number of things,” he said, “but they're usually due to a government fine of some sort. Like a parking ticket. Or a speeding ticket. Stuff like that.”

“Is there any way to find out what my charges are for?” I asked.

“Well, I have a phone number here. You could call,” he said. I shook my head and grimaced. I was glad he couldn't see my reaction. “But you can also simply wait. Generally speaking, you'll eventually be contacted with information about what these fees are for.”

So, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to wait. Yes, it goes against my advice to always be proactive. But it also means I don't have to use the phone.

With luck, I'll get mail (or email) soon that lets me know how I goofed up on the roads of France. Until then, I just hope these administrative fees don't keep accumulating at the end of every month! More than that, I hope I don't have to make additional phone calls about them.

One of my biggest pet peeves — my biggest pet peeve? — is companies that allow you to sign up for service online but force you to phone to cancel service. When we moved into this house (two years ago today!), I subscribed to the Sunday New York Times. It sounded fun, and the online sign-up process was simple.

Turns out, we never read the paper. When it arrived, it sat on the coffee table for a week or two or three, then it got recycled. (Well, we did read the New York Times Magazine supplement, but that's it.) So, I decided to cancel.

In a total dick move, The New York Times forces you to phone in order to cancel. You have to run the “customer retention” gauntlet to stop service. Utter bullshit. If you can sign up via the web, you should be able to cancel via the web. (And don't give me this stupid “it's for your protection” excuse. Who goes around canceling people's newspaper subscriptions?)

Depression and me

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For much of the past two weeks, I've been wrestling with my mental health. I could sense a crisis coming, so I scheduled some time away. I didn't want to have to be worrying about blog posts while I was worrying about everything else. Thus, my “summer vacation”.

Long-time readers are aware that I've struggled with depression for most of my life.

In sixth grade, I missed five weeks of school with what my father called “parrot fever”. (We had parrots, and he attributed my issues to a parrot allergy.) After our family physician could find nothing wrong with me, Dad took me to his therapist. Hushed conversations followed the appointment. The verdict: I was dealing with depression.

In junior high, I was briefly suicidal but made a deliberate decision to turn things around. In high school and college, the depression was always there, looming in the shadows. As a young adult, it mostly went away…but then it came back as I got older.

In 1999, when I was thirty, I experienced something new: anxiety. At one point, I thought I was having a heart attack. Nope. It was a panic attack. When the second panic attack came a few weeks later, I knew it wasn't my heart. It was me stressing about life.

Interesting note: It was after the second panic attack that my doctor strongly encouraged me to start drinking red wine. For real. Before that, I was a teetotaler.

During my divorce in 2011-12, Kris asked me a favor. “Please see a counselor,” she said. I did, and it helped. My therapist gave me advice for coping with depression and anxiety, plus she diagnosed me with ADD. For a few years, I was able to manage my symptoms.

Last year, though, things got bad. March and April and May were a struggle. In June, I published an article here about my ongoing battle with depression. During the summer, my mental health improved, however, and I forgot about how hard the spring had been.

Tweet about Anthony Bourdain's suicide

A Sneaky Little, Sticky Bitch

In February of this year, my anxiety returned. The depression followed soon after. When my heart-attack scare in mid-March turned up no physical issues (other than high blood pressure), my doctor suggested that the problem was anxiety. She asked me to start seeing a therapist again. So, I did.

Since early May, I've been attending talk therapy once a week. We're exploring why I feel so anxious, and how using alcohol to cope with anxiety is a “maladaptive behavior”. We're exploring other ways to make things work.

The trouble? When I don't drink in the afternoon, I get more anxious.

The frustrating thing is that the depression and anxiety lead me to act like a completely different person.

For instance, I love people. I love spending time with people. Social interaction energizes me. Right now, though? I hate it. I don't want to deal with anyone in any capacity. I don't want to spend time with friends. I don't want to be in crowds. (I make an exception for Portland Timbers games.) I don't even want to go to the grocery store.

Here are some ways this manifests itself:

  • Today, I had a lunch appointment with a colleague and friend. Karl is a great guy and I enjoy spending time with him. Normally. Today, though, all I could think about were the reasons I might be able to cancel.
  • Yesterday, I taped a TV interview with a local station. I wanted to cancel that too. Afterward, I ought to have driven out to the family box factory. But I didn't. I didn't want to spend time with my brother and cousin.
  • This Sunday evening, there's another Portland Timbers game. Kim can't go with me, so I need to find somebody else to join me. I have zero desire to do so. I may end up selling the tickets and skipping the game because of my anxiety.

My medical doctor has prescribed propranolol to simultaneously deal with my high blood pressure and my anxiety. While it seems to be helping the former, it's not helping the latter. (According to wikipedia, it's really only useful for performance anxiety.)

Meanwhile, the depression is even worse. If you look at the symptoms of depression, I'm exhibiting every single one. Some of my symptoms are severe.

  • Fatigue? Have it.
  • Insomnia? You bet.
  • Feelings of guilt and worthlessness? Oh boy.
  • Irritability? Yes, and it's so not me. I'm not an irritable guy — but I am lately.
  • Loss of interest in things once pleasurable? Absolutely, and it's SO FRUSTRATING. Nothing appeals to me. I'm numb.
  • Trouble concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions? You have no idea. Everything is a chore.

The latter is especially difficult to deal with. When Karl asked where to meet for lunch today, I couldn't decide. Why not? That's so simple! Last night, Kim wanted me to make dinner. But I didn't because I couldn't decide what to fix. That's ridiculous!

A Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

In fact, yesterday was miserable. It might have been the worst day of my entire life.

My head was a mess of negative thoughts and emotions, all of them swirling and swirling and swirling in a never-ending dark cloud of despair. I couldn't focus on anything. I did tape the TV interview (the first segment went very well, but the second bordered on incoherent) but that's the only productive thing I did all day.

On the drive home, I bought — and then consumed — a big bowl of clam chowder, a big bag of potato chips, and an entire package of chocolate chip cookies. Then I sat in the hot tub and played a videogame for five hours. (At least I didn't drink alcohol!)

When Kim came home, she asked, “What's for dinner?” I admitted that I hadn't made dinner — but I didn't tell her how messed up my head had been all day. (She knows I'm struggling but she doesn't know how badly.) While she changed out of her scrubs, I fried some frozen potstickers.

Naturally, all of this makes me feel even more guilty and worthless and depressed. It's a vicious cycle.

I'm sure you can see how this would translate in an inability to get work done, both here at Get Rich Slowly and in my real life.

It's a problem.

What's the solution to the problem? I'm not sure. There must be one. But I don't know what it is. Drink every afternoon? That's what I've been doing, and it works. But, as my therapist says, it's a maladaptive behavior. I think we all know where that road leads.

My therapist is patient. She keeps giving me homework assignments…and I keep avoiding them. Exercise! Meditate! Set goals! These all sound awesome. They're all things I know I like to do. But they also sound like tremendous effort, so I don't do them.

Bringing Gratitude

Instead of canceling my lunch appointment with Karl today, I went. I'm glad I did.

I've known Karl for almost a decade. He's one of the most uplifting, supportive people I've ever met. I love that his work is centered on positivity. He runs a site called Bring Gratitude and he published a book by the same name. (Six months ago, he shared a guest article here at Get Rich Slowly about practicing gratitude with a daily journal.)

As we sat down for lunch, I told Karl point blank about the issues I'm going through.

“I can totally relate,” he said, and he shared some of his own past struggles.

“You know,” I said, “my therapist has been urging me to try meditation. But I don't know how to start.”

Karl nodded. “I meditate. I meditated just this morning. But it can be tough to get going. You have so many thoughts racing through your head. Here's one thing that might work, though. Give yourself one minute. Only a minute. For that minute, meditate on all of the things that you're thankful for.”

“I like that idea,” I said. “I like it a lot. Normally, I'm a grateful guy. I'm a lucky man, and I know it. Usually. Lately, though, I've forgotten how awesome life is. Meditating on the things I'm grateful for would be a great way to remind me of what I've got.”

Thank You

On my drive home, I put Karl's idea into practice. I took back roads. As I drove slowly through the countryside, I thought about all of the things that I'm thankful for.

  • I'm thankful for Kim. She's a not just a wonderful partner in life, but she's a wonderful person. She's a good soul.
  • I'm thankful for my dog. Tahlequah is a handful (a pawful?), and I do get frustrated with her. But I'm also grateful to have such an enthusiastic hound dog in my life.
  • I'm thankful for my health. I haven't taken care of myself much lately, but that's on me. Generally speaking, my body is in fine shape. And with a little work, it could be in great shape once again.
  • I'm grateful for music. I don't mention it much, but music brings great joy to my life. I love music of all sorts. Taylor Swift, yes, but also U2 and Mozart and Styx and ABBA and Public Enemy.
  • I'm thankful for Portland. I love the green of it. I love its quirky die-hard (sometimes absurd) liberalism. I love the food scene and the Timbers and the passion for books. Speaking of which…
  • I'm grateful for words. Books bring me joy. So does writing. I've managed to make a living from my words, and I hope to continue doing so in the future.
  • I'm grateful for life.

Here at home, I had a call with my business partner, Tom. We spent two hours talking about behind-the-scenes details here at Get Rich Slowly. We made plans for the future. But we also took a lot of time to talk about nothing.

It was awesome. It was just what I needed.

When I got off the call, the dog wanted to play. She looked up with puppy-dog eyes and made her little whine that means, “Dad, throw the ball for me.” We went outside into the sunshine and I threw the ball for her. Then, I got down on my knees and wrestled with her. She loves when I wrestle with her.

“I really do have a good life,” I thought after the dog and I were done chomping on each other. I went into the kitchen to put away the clean dishes. “I'm thankful for all of it.”

You know what? I'm thankful for Get Rich Slowly too. And for you, the readers. This site has been a huge blessing in my life — and I'm not one to talk much about blessings. I've put a lot into GRS, it's true, but I've gotten so much more out of it. I've gotten so much from you folks.

So, thank you. I mean it. Thank you for reading. Thank you for contributing. Thank you for everything.

Few and Far Between

As Karl and I chatted at lunch today, I caught a Natalie Merchant song playing on the restaurant's radio. At first I thought it was “Wonder”, but then I recognized it as “Few and Far Between”.

“How fitting,” I thought. Some of the lyrics:

“‘Til you make your peace with yesterday, you'll never build a future. I swear by what I say: Whatever penance you do, decide what it's worth to you, and then respect it. However long it will take to weather your mistakes? Why not accept it?”

So, that's what has been going on in my life lately. It's been a struggle. But I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. And I can see some money articles at the end of the keyboard. (Thank goodness, right?)

What's been going on with you?

Summer Vacation!

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Well, apparently I need a vacation after my European vacation! I've come home to a Real Life in which I have too much to do and not enough time to do it. The yard needs pruning, the house needs cleaning, my body needs exercise, friends need visiting, and this website needs lots of work behind the scenes.

Rather than try to spread myself to thin — my modus operandi — I'm going to do the wise thing: I'm going to take a break. For the next two weeks, I won't be publishing anything new here at Get Rich Slowly. (I will, however, continue to send out the Friday emails. And I'll continue to update the Spare Change section on the front page with cool links from other sites.)

While this isn't an ideal solution, I think it's best for the long-term. I have a lot of travel coming up later this summer. (I'm basically on the road from August 15th to October 15th.) If I don't make time now to take care of things, I'll wish I had.

So, go outside and enjoy the summer sun! I'll see you again on July 1st.

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How to make better (and quicker) decisions

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Last week, I wrote about how I've embraced mindful shopping. I'm teaching myself to be more deliberate about the things I own and buy. My goal is to buy less and, more importantly, to own less.

As part of this, I don't want to waste time shopping. I'm trying to train myself to make better decisions more quickly. This is tough for me to do.

By nature, I want to evaluate every alternative, to find the best option in every circumstance. Left to my own devices, I can spend two hours trying to decide which chainsaw is the best chainsaw at the best price.

There's nothing wrong with this, of course. Comparison shopping is a good thing. But there's a fine line. Some comparison can help you avoid purchasing poor products. Too much, on the other hand, becomes a tax on your time and your brainwidth.

I want to find a balance. I no longer feel the need to make a perfect decision. (Is there such a thing?) I'm becoming comfortable with the idea of accepting decisions that are “good enough”.

In short, I'm trying to incorporate lessons I've learned from The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz so that I can take some of the suck out of shopping.

The Paradox of Choice

For those unfamiliar, Barry Schwartz is a psychology professor from Swarthmore College. His 2004 book The Paradox of Choice argues that while life without choice is almost unbearable, having too many choices carries burdens of its own.

“I believe that many modern Americans are feeling less and less satisfied even as their freedom of choice expands,” Schwartz writes. “Having too many choices produces psychological distress.”

This certainly rings true from my own experience. And not just with money decisions.

One of the joys of financial independence is the ability to choose how to spend your time. Indeed, this is a unique luxury. However, it's also a burden. When you have an infinite number of options available, how do you make decisions about what to do with your time? (My answer, as you can probably guess, is to be clear about your purpose, and to make decisions aligned with that purpose.)

Schwartz argues that faced with so many options and decisions, we would be better off if we:

  • Embraced certain voluntary constraints on our choices (instead of rebelling against limits).
  • Opting for “good enough” instead of always seeking the best.
  • Lowering our expectations.
  • Made our decisions non-reversible.
  • Paid less attention to other people.

“A majority of people want more control over the details of their lives,” he writes, “but a majority of people also want to simplify their lives.” Schwartz calls this the paradox of choice. Greater choices creates greater complexity. That's what we think we want. In reality, most folks crave simplicity — and simplicity requires fewer choices.

So, how can we confront this paradox? Is it possible to have the best of both worlds? How do we go about wrestling with the ever-increasing array of choices while simultaneously seeking simplicity.

That's precisely what I've been trying to answer for myself lately.

At the end of The Paradox of Choice, Schwartz shares eleven steps that he believes can help mitigate (or eliminate) the distress caused by so much choice. Let's look at four that I've found effective in my own life. [Read more…]

Mindful shopping: Learning to be deliberate about the things we buy and own

written by — published (updated ) 41 Comments

The older I get, the less I want or need. The older I get, the less I like to spend money. And when I have to buy something, I try to practice mindful shopping.

When I was younger, I wanted (and/or needed) all sorts of things. I wanted new clothes. I wanted tech gadgets. I wanted books. I was convinced that I needed a fast computer to be happy, not to mention a big house and lots of furniture. None of my shopping was mindful. It was mindless.

Now, at age fifty, buying things seems more like a hassle than a reward.

For one, buying something means I have to spend money — money that I'd rather keep for more important things, such as retirement. Or travel. Or beer. (Best of all: Travel and beer!)

J.D. enjoying a beer in Idaho

Plus, there's the entire shopping process. It's a chore. If I need to buy a chainsaw, for instance (which I actually did this week), I have to research the best option. Then I have to find the best price. Then I have to order it or, worse, take time out of my day to go pick it up in person.

Then, after I buy a new thing, I have to store it. I have to dispose of the packaging, then add whatever I bought to my collection of Stuff. It becomes clutter in my life. (This is true whether the thing is actually clutter or not.)

I use my laptop computer all day every day, for instance, yet it still acts as mental (and physical) clutter. It's always here in the living room, sitting next to my recliner. I see it whenever I walk by. It's always on my mind.

I know I sound like an aging curmudgeon, but all of this is true. The older I get, the less Stuff I want — and the more I want to get rid of the Stuff I already own.

Now, I don't want to pretend that I don't buy things. I do. There's no question that I do. I even spend frivolously if I'm not diligent. But I'm far less likely to buy things than I used to. And when I do buy things, I tend to be purposeful about my purchases. I try to be a mindful shopper.

Let's use the chainsaw as an example. [Read more…]