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How the toss of a coin determined my fate

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Hello! I have returned from my final big trip of the year, and I've resumed working behind the scenes here at Get Rich Slowly. Soon, new articles will begin to appear on this site.

Oh, wait. Here's a new article now!

On my most recent trip, I happened to tell the same story twice to two different groups. In doing so, I realized that it's a story I've never told here. That's unfortunate. It's about an event that had a profound impact on the course of my life — and my finances.

To bide the time while I work on longer articles, today I'd like to share how my fate was decided by the literal toss of a coin.

Going to College

My parents never pushed higher education on my brothers and me. Both my father and mother had attended church schools briefly — Goshen College for him, Brigham Young University for her — but neither one graduated. My uncle got a math degree from a local junior college, and my cousin Duane got a business degree from yet another church school.

Growing up, I can't remember that college was ever discussed in depth. It came up in conversation now and then, but there was never any expectation that my brothers and I would go.

But: I was a nerd. I hung out with other nerds. I read and I wrote. I entered math contests for fun. My favorite movies were about college and about college professors. I romanticized college life (and still do today).

Mitch and J.D. were (and are) nerds

Mitch and J.D., nerds in 1984, nerds in 2019

[Read more…]

Spare change: Awesome articles from elsewhere

How to learn in two days what normally takes six months

Inside a luxurious $15.6 million Miami penthouse [video]

"Why I'm sick of self-care." [YouTube]

Fostering the habit of being NOT busy

Larry Swedroe on sequence-of-return risk

90% of married women will need to manage money on their own at some point in their lives. The time to prepare is NOW.

How much does it cost to be a stay-at-home parent?

"I outsourced my life to subscription services."

Reddit: Tips for getting out of poverty

Do FICO scores matter anymore?

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

The virtue of thrift

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My grandparents, Lola and NoahWhen I was a boy, we lived in the country. That is, we lived five miles from the nearest town (Canby) and 25 miles from the nearest city (Portland). We were surrounded by farmland. Life was quiet. Pastoral. Bucolic.

The road we lived on was especially quiet, with very little traffic. Even from a young age — five or six, I think — I was allowed to walk the quarter-mile to visit my grandparents. (My father's parents lived “next door” to us, but next door was across a large field.)

Visiting grandma and grandpa was fun. As quiet as life in the country was, life at their house was even quieter. There was a stillness in their place unlike anything I've experienced since. Their home seemed stuck in time.

Part of this stuckness stemmed from the things they owned.

They lived in a little white farmhouse built in 1920. My grandparents moved there in 1943 — two years before my father was born — then remodeled the place. Sort of. (Like all Roths, they left the job undone — for more than forty years!)

During the 1970s, when I was young, they still owned and used many of the things they'd purchased when they moved in.

  • They still had a big, white Kelvinator refrigerator, for instance, with a moving door handle and hardly any space inside. They called it the “icebox”.
  • They listened to hymns (sometimes) and radio sermons (daily) on an imposing wooden console “hi-fi” system as big as a couch.
  • They owned a long pink-ish, purple-ish “davenport” with scratchy, well-worn fabric on which grandpa would nap every afternoon after “dinner” (which was lunch).
  • They used a black bakelite rotary telephone on a party line.

My grandparents themselves were very much like the things they owned. They were old. (They were in their seventies when I knew them.) They were calm. They moved slowly during the day, and even more slowly at night. One of my fondest memories is sitting with them in the evening, watching as they sipped “sanka” and played Scrabble while a fire roared in the nearby woodstove.

For children, time always moves more slowly, but it seemed to me that nothing every changed in my grandparents' world. Their home was frozen in time. It was stuck. It was still. It was silent.

It was comforting, and I liked it. [Read more…]

A self-made man

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Dad at the LatheMy father died twenty-four years ago today.

As I drove to the airport this morning — I'm on a short trip to San Diego — my mind drifted back to him and what he was like.

I don't think of Dad often anymore, and when I do it's mostly superficial stuff: Dad was fat. His hair was wild and wavy. He could be gruff. He was funny and had a contagious laugh. Sometimes he wasn't a very nice guy. Sometimes he was. But it's tough to remember what Dad was like as a presence, you know?

What I remember most about him was how Dad could do anything he set his mind to. This isn't nostalgic hero worship. It's how he actually was. My father could teach himself to do anything he wanted. And he wanted to do a lot.

A Self-Made Man

I'm not sure where my father's love of learning and experimenting came from. His parents were a simple, devout Mennonite couple.

When I knew Grandma and Grandpa, they managed a small farm. They had milk cows. They raised blueberries. They grew and canned vegetables. Grandpa cut his own wood. He'd been a janitor at the local high school, but by the time I was around, he was retired. Every night, he and Grandma sipped Sanka and played Scrabble. Their existence was simple, ordered, and serene.

My father wasn't simple. His life wasn't ordered. He was not a serene man. He was complex. He was messy. He was boisterous. He was a force of nature. (I come by my ADD honestly.) He had many interests, and he liked to indulge them all. [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?

Welcome to fifty: My first health scare as a middle-aged man

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Three weeks ago today, I had a major health scare.

Because it was Monday, I was at the family box factory. I had just finished running payroll and had taken paychecks out to the shop. I exited the building and *bam* my chest just sort of seized up.

“Ouch,” I thought. But, being a Roth, my thought process didn't go much farther than that. (We Roths don't like doctors and we tend to deal with injuries for weeks or months or years before having them looked at.)

On the way back to the office, I stopped to talk to my cousin Duane. He was digging in the dirt, prepping a spot for his summer garden. We chatted about blueberries, tomatoes, and greenhouses. We admired the warm spring day. After a few minutes, I realized that my chest still hurt.

“I don't want to alarm you,” I said, “but I'm having chest pains. It's probably nothing. But just in case it is something, I thought you should know.”

I walked back to the office and sat down at my computer. Instead of going back to work, however, I googled heart attacks. I read the list of symptoms. I wasn't experiencing anything except chest pain but still…Every site said the same thing: Don't mess around. If you're having chest pain, have somebody drive you to a doctor.

Duane came in. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

“I'm still having chest pains,” I said.

“Do you want me to drive you to the doctor?” he asked.

I debated things in my mind. “It's probably nothing,” I thought. “Or maybe it's a panic attack like twenty years ago.” In 1998, I experienced two similar episodes that turned out to be panic attacks. I was under a lot of stress then. I'm not under a lot of stress now.

“Plus, if I go to the doctor, it could end up costing a fortune. My health insurance sucks,” I thought. “But if it is a heart attack and I don't go in, I could end up dead.”

“Well?” Duane said.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I know I'm not supposed to but I'm going to drive myself to urgent care. If you don't hear from me in fifteen minutes, come find me.” (There's only one logical route from the box factory to the nearest clinic.)

I gathered my stuff, hopped in my pickup, and drove slowly to the clinic. [Read more…]

By the numbers: My spending for March 2019

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March was a mixed month in my financial world. I ended March with a slightly higher net worth (up 0.6%) but my spending was the highest it's been this year: $5989.10. Yet, that spending was mostly mindful. I wasn't frittering away money on silly things.

If I wasn't buying dumb stuff, then where did my money go? A few worthwhile places:

  • I spent $653.31 on the yard and garden. Specifically, Kim and I tore out a big cedar tree in the corner of the yard, then converted that space to a small orchard. I use the word “orchard” loosely here. We planted three fruit trees, four blueberries, four grape vines, and a bunch of strawberries. I hope to write about this more in the near future.
  • I spent $625.72 on health and fitness. In the middle of the month, I had quite a scare. Out of nowhere, I had chest pains, so I visited the local hospital ER. My co-pays and prescriptions are reflected in March's spending — and there's more to come. (We're about to have a l-o-n-g article on the $6800 hospital bill I received in the mail yesterday. That'll happen in April or May.) Meanwhile, Kim had knee surgery at the end of the month. I paid for some of her stuff out of my pocket.
  • I spent $579.36 on gifts in March, which is very very unusual.
  • I paid the $450 annual fee on my Chase Sapphire Reserve credit card. (Yes, I know this seems like a lot. But remember the card comes with a $300 travel credit, which means my effective annual fee is $150. I believe I receive $150 in value from the card's other benefits.)

I don't consider any of that spending frivolous although I recognize that some of it isn't necessary. (Do we need an orchard? Do I need to give gifts?)

That said, I did have some weak spots in my spending. I bought several movies on iTunes. In fact, I spent $72.63 on iTunes in March. I need to be careful lest I return to my former profligate ways. No more looking in the iTunes store! I also spent $230.15 on alcohol during the month (most of which was beer).

How did I do with groceries? As you know, my food spending had grown out of control, which is one of the primary reasons I'm tracking my spending in detail this year. Last year, I spent over $1000 per month in food. This year, I'm spending less than $700 per month.

I was very proud of my food spending for most of March. I spent a total of $658.21 during the month: $468.27 on groceries and $184.24 on dining out. That's my lowest monthly food total in two years (excepting months during which I've been on the road).

Going into the last week of March, I'd only spent $241.87 on groceries. That's amazing! Things fell apart, however, when I stocked up on food for Kim's convalescence. Meanwhile, we only had three restaurant meals during the month. For one of those, I paid for two guests. Not bad. Not bad.

Quarterly Spending

Now that we've made it through the first three months of 2019, I was curious how my quarterly spending compared to last year. Monthly spending can fluctuate quite a bit. You can get a better idea of your actual habits by looking at a bigger picture.

Here are some highlights:

  • I spent $116.56 at the iTunes store during the first quarter of 2019. That's less than I spent on movies and TV shows during any single month last year, so that's a win.
  • I spent $2076.54 on food for the quarter, which is lower than any quarter in 2018. I spent $1179.53 on groceries, $323.52 on HelloFresh, and $542.29 on dining out. That restaurant spending is another big win. The grocery spending was good — better than any quarter in 2018 — but I feel like I can do better.
  • I spent a lot on health and fitness during the first three months of the year: $1752.60. And the thing is, it's not going to get much better.
  • This year, I decided to separate hot tub expenses into its own category. I spent $151.88 on hot tub stuff (chemicals, etc.) during the first three months of the year. And, no, that doesn't include electricity.
  • Our zoo — three cats and a dog — cost us $447.54 during the first quarter of 2019.
  • You know where I could save big bucks? By drinking less. I spent $586.36 on alcohol during the first three months of the year (and that includes four weeks during which I didn't drink a drop!). That's $6.44 per day. Time for me to cut back on my craft beer obsession…

I spent a total of $15,364.85 during the first quarter of 2019, an average of $5121.62 per month. That's not a great number, to be honest. It's pretty much what I was spending last year. Still, I'm trying not to get too stressed about things…yet.

The whole point of this exercise is for me to figure out where I'm spending my money and why. Once I have a clear picture, I can make some course corrections.

April is the Cruelest Month

Unfortunately, April is going to have some crazy, crazy spending numbers. My accountant called yesterday to give me my tax bill. I owe $20,000. (I'm not joking.) The hospital called too. They wanted to let me know that I owe them $6800 for the ER visit in the middle of March. To cap things off, payment is due on the vacation that Kim and I booked a year ago. We'll be headed to Greece and Italy in August — but we're paying for it today.

Fortunately, I knew that some of these expenses were looming, so I have cash set aside to pay for taxes and our trip. (The ER visit was a surprise, obviously, and I don't have money set aside for that.) That doesn't change the fact that April's expenses are going to be insane, though. It just means I'm somewhat prepared for the insanity.

The upside to having a $6800 hospital bill so early in the year? It gives me a chance to make maximum use of my health insurance! My max “out of pocket” is $7900 annually. Since it looks like I'm going to hit that, it makes sense to address all medical issues that are bugging me in 2019.

At the end of 2018, I had a net worth of $1,334,227.20. At the end of March, my net worth was $1,397,545.18. That's a leap of more than $63,000 (or 4.75%). That's great! In reality, this simply reflects a hot stock market. My investment accounts are up $77,933.04 this year (11.45%).

A hot stock market can cover a multitude of sins…

Financial advice from my father (when I was nineteen)

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Dad at work in his shop“Who was there for your father when he died?” Kim asked me a few moments ago. She's interested in becoming a death doula, so she's reading a book about end-of-life care.

“It's odd you should ask that today,” I said after I told her the story of my father's six-year battle with cancer.

“Why?” she asked.

“Today is the equivalent day in my life as the day when Dad died in his,” I said. “It's ten days until I turn fifty. Dad died ten days before his fiftieth birthday. So, it's a somber day for me. I'll be thinking of him all day.”

Actually, I've been thinking of Dad all week.

It started when I published Naomi Veak's story about how she learned to stop feeling hopeless about money. In that article, Veak shared a letter her mother sent her when she was nineteen years old. Veak was a poor kid at a rich school, and she was struggling to figure out finances. Her mother offered some words of wisdom.

I had the exact same thing happen to me at the exact same age at the exact same college. I was a poor boy at this rich school. During my sophomore year at Willamette University, when I was nineteen, my father wrote me a letter filled with financial advice.

Today seems like a good day to share it with you folks. [Read more…]

By the numbers: My spending for February 2019

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One of my goals in 2019 is to get back to basics. I feel like I've succumbed to lifestyle inflation, so I'm taking the time to track my money in detail (using my fave tool: Quicken 2007 for Mac) in an attempt to identify problem areas. When I find money leaks, I need to decide whether to eliminate them or accept them.

While I'm skeptical that sharing my monthly spending report has any real value — and it invites unnecessary judgment (I'm already judging myself!) — popular opinion from GRS readers seems to be: Do it!

You folks like looking at my struggles with money haha.

So, here's a quick look at how I spent my money in February — the good, the bad, and the ugly.

February Spending Report

In January, I spent $4819.27 to support my lifestyle. In February, I spent $4556.49, a decline of $250.

That's great! But it still misses my target: $4000 per month. While this is an arbitrary goal, I think it's a good one. I feel like that's a sustainable level for the future. (If my income from Get Rich Slowly and other sources increases, then I can consider boosting my target spending.)

Here's a quick run-down of how I spent on certain key categories:

  • I spent $726.00 on food in February, up $24.99 from January. Of this, $146.41 was spent on dining out, which is extremely low for me. I spent $373.31 on groceries and $189.75 on HelloFresh. (For more info, see my recent write-up of two months with HelloFresh.) In 2018, I averaged $1038.03 per month on food (and spent $1104.97 in February of last year), so I'm happy with the decline so far in 2019. I'd like to see this drop even more, though.
  • Pet spending dropped from $186.63 in January to $112.14 in February. That still seems like a lot. As a point of comparison, I pulled up the numbers from last year. In 2018, I spent an average of $121.40 per month to support our one dog and three cats. Apparently, that's just how much it costs to feed and care for our beasts. (And they're certain they could eat more than we currently feed them.)
  • In January, I spent $326.08 on sin, a category I use to track how much I spend on alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana. (Pot is legal in Oregon. I don't often use it recreationally, but I use it nearly every night to help me sleep. A couple of times per year, I buy cigars and/or clove cigarettes.) In February, my spending on sin dropped to $117.15. This is primarily because I went four weeks without touching a drop off alcohol. And since I resumed drinking, I've been much more moderate in my consumption.
  • As I mentioned at the end of the year, the iTunes store is a dangerous spot for me. I have a tendency to browse and buy a lot of movies. In January, I spent only $3.99 on the iTunes store. Last month, I spent only $39.94. That two-month total of $43.93 is far below the $356.33 I spent at iTunes during the first two months of 2018. Progress!
  • In January, I had $1034.40 of one-time expenses. At the time, I worried that every month would have one-time expenses. That's still a worry. In February, I spent $376.80 to replace the bald tires on my new 1993 Toyota pickup. I also spent $1340 to renew our subscription to Broadway Across America (two tickets for seven shows throughout the year).

Despite spending $4556.49 in February, my net worth increased by $24,276.77 (or 1.78%) — and that's after a 2.29% increase in January. My net worth has grown $54,894.68 (or 4.11%) during the first two months of 2019.

I wish I could say my increase in wealth has come because I'm so damn smart, but that's just not the case. All credit goes to gains in the stock market. If we enter a rocky patch — or worse, a recession — my net worth is going to fall fast. When that happens, I want to be ready to cut spending, if necessary.

Final Thoughts

After two months of updating Quicken daily, I'm noticing some patterns. For example, my spending falls into four broad categories.

  • Fixed expenses (such as pets, insurance, and utilities) come to roughly $1100 per month.
  • Variable spending on necessities (such as food, haircuts, and home + car repairs) comes to about $1200 per month.
  • Variable spending on luxuries (such as books, sin, and the hot tub) comes to about $700 per month.
  • One-time expenses (new pickup, theater tickets, and the like) are totaling about $1500 per month.

I consider roughly half of my spending to be necessary; the other half is (mostly) indulgent.

The fixed expenses are obligations. They're not going away and they're unlikely to change. Variable spending on necessities can be altered, although there's going to be a floor for each expense. (You've been watching in real-time as I toy with my food spending, for instance.)

Variable spending on luxuries is by definition an indulgence. I could absolutely cut these costs, if needed. And, in fact, I have my eye on some of these. Finally, the one-time expenses are a mixed bag. Some, like the 1993 Toyota pickup, are necessities (or close to necessities). Others, like the theater tickets, are absolute luxuries.

I suspect that I'll want to re-evaluate some of my one-time expenses by the time the year is over. Some are more like annual expenses than “one-time” expenses, and I'd probably profit from determining which to continue…and which to cancel.

Kim and I enjoy our theater excursions and our Portland Timbers season tickets, but if we truly want to cut costs, some of these indulgences may have to go. We'll see. For now, I'm content tracking them and flagging them for future discussion.

Case study: Deep in debt but scared to take action

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Last night, as I do from time to time, I met with a GRS reader. Actually, Debbie doesn't read this site but her sister does. And Debbie means to. Although I met Debbie's sister last year at a Camp FI event, I'd never met Debbie before.

“So, what's your situation?” I asked after our waiter had brought us each a glass of wine. “What do you want to know about money?”

“Everything,” Debbie said, laughing. “I feel like I don't know much at all right now. I guess deep down, I know what I need to do. I just don't do it.”

I nodded. “I'm like that with fitness,” I said. “I know what I need to do, but I just don't do it. I know I need to exercise. I know I need to stretch. I know I need to eat better food. But for a lot of people — people like you and me — there's a barrier between knowledge and action. It doesn't matter if we know how to do the right thing. It's the action that matters.”

“I buy books about money but I never read them,” Debbie said. “I have Dave Ramsey and The Millionaire Next Door.”

“Those are both good books,” I said. Then, I shifted gears.

Looking for Purpose

“This might seem odd, but let's talk about your goals. What do you want out of life? What are your big plans?” Our waiter brought Debbie a bowl of mussels and me a plate of pasta.

“I want to make the world a better place,” Debbie said. “I'm young. I work for a huge multi-national company. But I don't believe in the company and I don't believe in my work. I get paid $20 an hour to bring people coffee and water all day. I have a bartending gig on weekends. I want to do something that matters. Maybe improve our food system, for instance. I hate how people eat. I want more people to have better access to high-quality food.”

“That sounds like a noble goal,” I said. “How do you get there from where you are now?”

“I don't know,” Debbie said. “It seems impossible. I have $80,000 in student loans but they're in deferral. I don't have to pay anything on them, but they still accumulate $600 in interest every month. How can I ever hope to catch up?”

“Yeah, that's rough,” I said. “I used to be in a similar position. Twenty years ago, I had over $35,000 in credit card and consumer debt. That's not the same as your $80,000, but it'd probably be equivalent to about $50,000 today. I carried that debt for a long time, just treading water, never getting ahead. I felt like I'd never get it paid off.”

“But you did it?”

“I did,” I said. “I did it by creating a gap between my earning and spending. Fundamentally, there are only two things you can do to improve your situation. You can make more money or you can spend less. Ideally, you'd do both. You want as wide a gap as possible between what you earn and what you spend. Right now, it sounds as if you don't have a gap. You have a deficit.”

Debbie nodded. I slurped down some noodles.

Two Familiar Foes

“How much is your rent?” I asked.

She looked sheepish. “I pay $1200 for an apartment in northeast Portland,” she said. She gave an address near where I lived after my divorce. “I know I should have roommates but I don't. I don't want the complications.”

“And what's your take-home pay?”

“Just over $2000 per month,” Debbie said.

“Yeah, your rent is pretty high,” I said. “I mean, it's not high compared to other places in Portland — it seems about average — but it's high compared to your income. Nearly 60% of what you earn is going to housing. That's a lot! The average American spends about one-third of their take-home pay on housing. So, that's a great place to try to cut costs. Maybe not right now, but over the long term.”

“I like where I live,” Debbie said, prying open a mussel.

“You might want to consider roommates,” I said. “Aside from your housing costs, it doesn't sound like the rest of your spending is outrageous. Honestly, if I were you, I'd try to find ways to boost your income. Especially since you hate your job.”

“I know,” Debbie said. “I've thought about that. I have a marketing degree that I'm not using. My current company offered to give me a raise and a promotion, but I turned it down. I would have been doing work that I hate even more. It would be difficult for me to be in a position where I had to represent a company I don't like.”

“Why don't you quit?” I asked.

“I did once,” she said. “But then I went back right away. I was scared to apply for new work. I don't have much self-confidence. I mean, I'm 31 and have a marketing degree, but I don't have any experience. Who would hire me?”

“I get the lack of self-confidence,” I said. “I totally get it. I struggle with that every day.”

“You do?” Debbie said. She seemed surprised.

“Yes,” I said. “Every day. Even today, I've been dragging around with my head full of negative self-talk. But here's the thing: I've learned to just do the stuff that scares me anyhow.” [Read more…]