With my first full month of intense debt reduction coming to an end, I am learning how to shop for groceries like a sane person. There were a couple of grocery trips where I spent about $80 — but never one where I spent any more than that. Mostly there were little trips to pick up a few things we’d run out of.
A big grocery haul typically includes lots of fruits and veggies, a couple of dozen cage free eggs, several tubs of tofu, a few bottles of wine, milk, half and half, bread, beans, tubs of fresh peanut butter, and even San Marzano tomatoes. You just need to find the right market. And know how to cook.
But notably — no cheese, no processed snack food, nothing much processed at all.
If only I had come to my senses earlier, I might still be a millionaire.
I feel like a drunk who just woke up in a car parked on top of a railroad crossing. My previous reality seemed so sensible. Go to a store, plunk down a credit card. Harbor a fantasy that I could easily pay for all this.
Every month when I opened the credit card statements I was in a bit of shock that all those little charges, many $10, $20, $30, could add up to thousands. And our $10,000 net monthly income never seemed to have quite enough to cover what we had incurred. So I paid as much as I could, but not all.
And that bit got added to the previous bit and folded into the next bit., which eventually added up to tens of thousands.
Clearly I’m not good at comprehending that small integers can add up to thousands.
And then I woke up on the railroad tracks.
And now I am hyper awake to every little expenditure. If feels so strange. But also it feels just right. No, I am not going to spend five bucks on some organic half and half. No, I’m not going to run off and get a manicure when I am perfectly capable of doing it myself.
I might even wake up enough to decide I can clean my own damned house.
I can foresee having lots of “what not to dos” so I’m numbering them. Here’s number one, which may not be of use to most people. Only people who in their young adulthood inherit 1.1 million dollars.
That was us. My husband’s parents did well with some investments and he, the only child, inherited everything when they had both passed. We were expecting a life of struggling, and then this bounty came along. We weren’t quite sure what to do, but fella had a friend who ran a big investment fund; so we put the money with him. Fella bought a BMW with cash. Otherwise we went along as usual for a year until I insisted we buy a house.
We were about 35 and about to have our first kid. The sensible thing seemed to be to get a mortgage for a $250,000 house. That seemed sensible.
Now I realize we were crazy. That mortgage came with a very long duration of interest payments.
Maybe we thought the real estate market was going to lag the stock market and this would be smart? Huh? I think we simply weren’t thinking. In any case, for the next decade we sold that house then bought another, sold it, then bought another as we moved from one state to another for jobs.
At every step we had these huge mortgage payments, which we would not have had if we had paid for that first house and subsequent houses outright. Those mortgage payments were at least 70% interest. We could have socked that money we were paying toward interest instead into investments. Moreover, the big mortgage payments — coupled with our failure to properly budget — led to us taking out $3,000 a month from our inheritance. And then in 2008, it was all gone.
Oh, stupid us.
Now I know — so let me pass this on to anyone in such a lovely situation of inheriting a chunk of cash: DO NOT take out a loan for a house; pay cash. Do whatever you can not to owe The Man any interest whatsoever. It is not in your interest. Only his.
And now, time for a little song. Go ahead, put it on full screen.