Living With The Budget, Part I

I wouldn’t wish living with The Budget on my worst enemy, just my nearest and dearest. Though it’s almost an intolerable pain in the patootie at first, financial solvency binds anxiety better than any drug available, no side effects. Plus, there’s the lovely afterglow from having money available to pay for whatever comes up, as it comes up. Without a credit card.

But, at first, it bites. It’s Friday night, the end of a very long week. The mere idea of cooking exhausts, not to mention the clean up—  “The hell with it,” Hubby says, “let’s go to the Chinese buffet.” I ask myself—follow me closely here— Do we have the money? The Budget says, No. The usual soundtrack kicks in: Mick Jagger: “You can’t…always get... what you wah aah aah aahnnnt.”

Since we surrendered to the reality that money matters matter, The Budget has ruled with an iron hand. Forget the velvet glove. Before, if we thought (questionable at best) about it, “budget” was a noun. Wrong. It’s a verb. As in: To Budget. To stay within The Budget. To ignore The Budget. To over budget. To under budget. To rework The Budget. To be contained by The Budget. To yield to The Budget.

To budget is to take money seriously, to leave childhood behind, to become a responsible adult.  Good god, we whined, isn’t there some other way? What do you think?

Budgeting requires extreme math skills: adding and subtracting. That’s not even the hard part. What’s hard is, it hurts to stay on budget. A lot. You know all those little treats, the ones you think of as necessities, that seem affordable, one at a time, and out of context. They add up. For expenses to not exceed income, they had to go. The horror.

Living with it, or rather, without—well, that’s like swimming in very cold water. When you first jump in, it’s a shock. But, you warm up with the exercise. What exercise?  Falling off budget, climbing back on; falling off budget, climbing back on. Over and over, in endless variations.

I forgive myself for making mistakes because, despite being the Oracle at D, I keep making them. My goal? Repeat less. Make new mistakes. An honest, clear-eyed post-mortem speeds the process.  But that requires accepting unpleasant realities about myself that I’d rather not. Progress has occurred slowly, in stages.

Phase I: Acknowledging Reality

Brownie Bits

Once upon a Friday morning, I made brownies for a gathering happening that night.  Had I slept through the alarm only once, there would have been time before I left for work for the cake to fully cool before I cut it into squares. 

Bits of warm, scrumptious brownie clung to the knife with each pass.  I considered eating them, but… it was much too early for recreational substance abuse.  I scraped them into a bowl. When I finished, there were enough brownie bits in that bowl to make up at least two (Two!) squares.

A-ha! Had I eaten those bits one knife-edge at a time, I would have grossly underestimated the calories I was taking in. The Mystery of the Widening Waist? Solved. It’s no different with unmindful small spending. Five dollars here, ten dollars there, day after day, week after week. At month’s end, where are you? Up to the nostrils in the 18% interest overdraft account. Again.

Lots of little bits equals one big bite. Guesstimating leads to underestimating. Track your expenses in the moment. Don’t put it off. Trust me, you’ll forget.

PHOTO CREDITS: RambergMedialImages (Bill With Checkbook) and Dessert First (Brownies)

Phase II? Coming your way soon....