IndependentlyPoor
Thinks s/he gets paid by the post
Warning navel gazing follows. Reading this is likely to cause rolling of the eyes and searching for an "ignore poster" button.
Like several here, we don’t budget. Somehow we manage to stay within our means without working very hard at it. In the old days, we would review our spending when the monthly bank statement came and cut back if we were spending to much. These days, we use a credit card for almost everything and frequently check the balance online. We also download credit card statements into Quicken, so it is easy to see where the money went category by category.
The one time we extended ourselves was at the bottom of a housing bust when we bought a house in a snazzy neighborhood. I allowed myself to be talked into a “creative” mortgage that offered a great rate that was fixed for 7 years, but then had a one-time adjustment. I never could be comfortable with the “don’t worry, you can always refinance” line, so we paid it off in 6 1/2 years.
I have never thought of myself as frugal, and I don’t think anybody who knows me would describe me as such. I have always enjoyed the toys and status symbols of upper middle class life. So why, when I got bad diagnosis at age 50, could I look around and realize that I could just chuck it all and retire? I think the reason is anxiety avoidance. I am a worrier, and I hate to worry. I can’t enjoy any purchase if it makes me worry about money, so I don’t buy things I can’t afford. It isn’t a logical decision, it is a feeling: “Will that sexy new convertible make me happy?” Inner voice: “Yes, yes, buy it, buy it!” Second inner voice: “You won’t be able to sleep at night worrying about those payments.” So the ragtop stays on the lot.
I guess part of it is the American dream in action: son of blue collar parents goes to college and gets white collar job. Wham! It was a huge jump in socio-economic class, but I never felt entitled to the luxuries of upper-middle class life like I probably would have if my parents had been rich.
And then there is luck. Having the right degree at the right time allowed me to catch the wave of absurdly high engineering salaries paid during the tech. boom.
But end the end, I must have somehow absorbed my parents frugal ways without meaning to. And not a bit of it is genetic: I’m adopted.
We like to think of ourselves as rational, but feelings count: sometimes more than we are willing to acknowledge.
Like several here, we don’t budget. Somehow we manage to stay within our means without working very hard at it. In the old days, we would review our spending when the monthly bank statement came and cut back if we were spending to much. These days, we use a credit card for almost everything and frequently check the balance online. We also download credit card statements into Quicken, so it is easy to see where the money went category by category.
The one time we extended ourselves was at the bottom of a housing bust when we bought a house in a snazzy neighborhood. I allowed myself to be talked into a “creative” mortgage that offered a great rate that was fixed for 7 years, but then had a one-time adjustment. I never could be comfortable with the “don’t worry, you can always refinance” line, so we paid it off in 6 1/2 years.
I have never thought of myself as frugal, and I don’t think anybody who knows me would describe me as such. I have always enjoyed the toys and status symbols of upper middle class life. So why, when I got bad diagnosis at age 50, could I look around and realize that I could just chuck it all and retire? I think the reason is anxiety avoidance. I am a worrier, and I hate to worry. I can’t enjoy any purchase if it makes me worry about money, so I don’t buy things I can’t afford. It isn’t a logical decision, it is a feeling: “Will that sexy new convertible make me happy?” Inner voice: “Yes, yes, buy it, buy it!” Second inner voice: “You won’t be able to sleep at night worrying about those payments.” So the ragtop stays on the lot.
I guess part of it is the American dream in action: son of blue collar parents goes to college and gets white collar job. Wham! It was a huge jump in socio-economic class, but I never felt entitled to the luxuries of upper-middle class life like I probably would have if my parents had been rich.
And then there is luck. Having the right degree at the right time allowed me to catch the wave of absurdly high engineering salaries paid during the tech. boom.
But end the end, I must have somehow absorbed my parents frugal ways without meaning to. And not a bit of it is genetic: I’m adopted.
We like to think of ourselves as rational, but feelings count: sometimes more than we are willing to acknowledge.