Things We Carry

It is a little known fact, though no less true for its obscurity, that I have a secret fear of owning anything that I cannot myself carry.

It is completely unfounded and irrational, and try as I might, I have been unable to deduce the true motivation behind this feeling. It remains, this nagging inner longing to be rid of all things that cannot be picked up in a moment and hauled off to someplace new.

You would think that this would mean that I constantly move around, but I don't. I stay--it is my all too frequent mode of operation--and often I stay wherever I stay far longer than I probably should. But mostly, I think I stay because I tell myself that I can leave anytime, knowing, of course that leaving would require me to manage those things that can and cannot be carried.

Lately, this has come to mind because I am trying to sell a television. It is a perfectly fine television but for two minor flaws: (1) I do not use it, and (2) it is too big, bulky, and heavy for me to carry by myself. (The latter, of course, being its primary downside.)

This past summer, I read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, and one of its section titles is "The Things We Carried." For some reason, this resonates within me when I begin to consider my own uncanny fear.

In the book, the Price family is flying to Africa because the father is determined to be a missionary. As the family prepares for the flight, they realize very quickly that the amount of luggage that they can take with them is extremely limited. They begin to figure out ways around this: wearing multiple dresses on top of each other, sewing scissors and thimbles into their clothing (ah, for the days before mad TSA screenings!), and stuffing items into their pockets and handbags. They carry their lives with them to Africa--or so they think.

And then, in well-crafted irony, they gradually begin to realize that all of the things they thought they couldn't live without are completely unsuited to their new lives. So many things they carried with them--all for nothing.

I think about that when I think about my own possessions, and I wonder whether there is any meaning at all to be found in having things--in having big things--in having heavy things--in having anything at all that cannot be carried.

Perhaps there is no difference between the things we carry and the things we cannot, only the realization that both share the same quality of meaninglessness.

Or perhaps I am just afraid to put down roots.

Valentine's Day

I watched the movie Valentine's Day this evening--because why NOT make yourself depressed about being single in November as well as February, right? Sigh.

Rilke says, "I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other." I'm not entirely sure what he meant by that, but I envy him if he ever found someone to fulfill that expectation.

These two seemingly unrelated statements exemplify the gap between the real and the ideal.

Sometimes I think I hope too hard for something that doesn't exist.

The World Is Too Much With Us

It's too much, you know. And it all closes in. Or maybe we cause it to close in--that's the part that's less than clear and all too distressing. We spin ourselves in circles, busy with doing, building, earning--but what good is any of it?

Look at what we're losing: the sky, the sea, the feeling that you get when your heart swells because you're looking at something so beautiful that your soul can't endure it.

We don't see things anymore. We just do what we do, oblivious.

I long for my eyes to be opened so I can see things the way they were before everything got so busy, so full. I want to find my eyes wide with wonder at the large-scale majesty of it all. I want to imagine that the sea is indeed its own living force, that it is called to motion or to stillness by the sound of the mighty Triton's horn. I want to believe that if I watched long enough, the god of the sea would arise triumphant from the waves. But I don't believe these things. What I believe is, alas, far too predictable and far too small.

If I saw the world through eyes that valued the strength, power, and beauty that I observed, maybe things would matter again. These things make the world big again, wild, free. Not the ever-shrinking sink-hole that seems to surround me.

The world really is too much with us.... (Thinking of you, Wordsworth.)

Cash Only, Week Two

Another week has passed, and although my cash-only "experiment" is over, I have a feeling that my cash-only lifestyle is just beginning.

Oh, I don't necessarily mean to say that I will be forever free of plastic, but I am loving the freedom that comes with not having to owe a credit card payment each month. In fact, just this morning, I pulled up the website(s) for my credit card(s) just to look at how little I would be paying at the end of the billing cycle. What a happy thought!

It does somewhat surprise me, the slight gleeful feeling that I get from this. After all, it's not like there was debt involved. I treated credit as debit, for all intents and purposes, paying it off each month. So why, then, does it feel so good not to do it?

Perhaps it is because I don't have to worry about deadlines for payment (or looming late fees if I don't pay on time). When I pay something in cash, it's done. No fees later, no companies tracking what I'm spending my money on. I like it.

Peripherally speaking, I also feel much better to have put myself back on a budget. I had played around with some software that was supposed to replicate the envelope system, but it was terribly difficult to use (and I am quite good with computers and learning new software!). Instead, I opted for Excel. Really, with a few good formulas in place, Excel is perfectly fine for tracking the budget. At least, that's my opinion after one week. We'll see as things progress.

Paying attention to the budget also helps me focus on short- and long-term goals, such as paying off the car and starting to save for retirement.

It's time to be intentional. I'm not a kid anymore; I can't allow myself to keep relying on hope if I care about achieving long-term financial freedom.

The Value of Money

Well, I have come to the end of my week-long experiment in spending cash only. I realized after the first couple days that although the long-term goal here is greater frugality, for the sake of this experiment, I needed to actually spend money so that I would be able to judge the difference between paying with plastic and paying with cash. Ergo, I stopped hoarding the cash and started allowing myself to spend it.

A few observations follow:

1. Paying for food in cash really makes you think about what it is that you're buying and eating. For example, on a busy night this week, in conjunction with my roommate, I ended up stopping by Hideaway to pick up a pizza. Typically, no big deal (and it's not like I go there very often). But when the guy told me it was $16-something for the medium pizza, I have to admit, I was rather taken aback--knowing, in particular, that there was a Little Caesar's just down the street where I could get a large pizza for $5.

Was it worth it? Yes, in the moment. It was really, really good. And I think there are times when a splurge is ok. But will I think more about where I'm buying pizza or other food-to-go when such occasions arise in the future? You bet I will.

2. Suddenly, coins are valuable. I mean, they're money, so of course they have value. But how many of us stop to think about the value of coins? Rather, we drop them in the drive-through or lose them in the laundry. (Well, I don't, but a lot of people do.) But an accumulation of just a few coins equals a dollar--a whole dollar!--which can also be spent without breaking a bill. This leads to my third observation....

3. It's a lot easier to spend small bills than big bills...and a lot easier to spend coins than any bills. I'm sure someone out there has done a study on this, but for me, it was kind of a different idea. It didn't hurt so much to break a $1, or a $5, but handing over a $20 was a big deal. Ouch! Especially when I didn't get much change back. Suddenly, I started having thoughts of, "Will I need to stop at an ATM before the end of the week? What if I don't have enough left for [fill in the blank]?"

I suppose here is where budgeting makes a difference. Although I didn't go crazy spending money (or probably even spend as much as I likely would have in a typical week), I know I could have been better about planning what money was going to go where and approximately when that expenditure would occur. I still haven't committed myself to the envelope system, but I can definitely see how it would be useful.

4. Eating at home makes a big difference. I packed my lunch every day this week, and I ate dinner at home most of those days as well. The thought of wasting my cash on food that wasn't already in my refrigerator was more than a little distasteful.

5. Paying with cash forces you to have to think. What I mean here is that when you pay for something with plastic, you whip out the card, hand it over, and voila! You have paid. When you pay in cash, you're suddenly confronted with such things as counting. Granted, counting is not difficult, but it's something that has to be done, and since you often don't know the exact amount of a purchase until the cashier has added tax to the bill, it's not always easy to have the exact amount (bills plus coins) ready to be handed over right away. You have to stand there for a couple seconds and fumble with the money until you count out the right amount.

Now is this a big deal? No, not at all. But if you're used to paying with plastic, those extra seconds seem to drag on and on and on....

Same goes for tipping at a restaurant. When paying with plastic, you just put the card on the table, and when the server returns, you have really an unlimited amount of time to calculate the tip. I was at a restaurant yesterday, and suddenly realized that when the waiter set the bill on the table (and the person I was dining with had her card out and ready for her ticket), it seemed that all of a sudden, I had to get the appropriate bills out of my purse so the server could run both tickets at once. And what I wanted to do was give the perfect amount and say, "I don't need change." But I didn't. I felt the haste of the moment and just plopped down a $20 and waited for him to bring me change. Now, could I have asked him to come back after I'd had a minute to prepare better? Certainly. But I was so used to the convenience and relative speed of plastic transactions that it didn't feel right to do so.

6. Some things are still better paid in ways other than cash. For example, as discussed in Dan's comment on my earlier post, gasoline. I didn't have to buy gas this week, but if I had, it would have felt very inconvenient to go into the gas station to prepay and then go back out to pump my gas. I like paying at the pump--a lot. Some people have recommended buying gas station gift cards, while others have advocated using regular debit/credit cards for gas. I can't see myself taking the time to go into a gas station on a regular basis, so I'm pretty sure the gift card idea isn't my best option. But the debit or credit card? Yep.

Another thing you can't really pay with cash is an electric bill, which I did pay this weekend. Granted, I could have driven somewhere in town where I could stand in line to pay in cash, but to me, that is completely counterproductive. This is why having a bank account with online bill pay is so valuable to me. You can pay your bills directly from your checking account, from a single screen on the computer. No late fees, no stamps, no reminders to drive past the post office on your way to work. It's a beautiful thing.

In spite of a few items that are really better off paid using another method, this week of cash-only has taught me that I really do think more about what I'm buying when I pay for items with cash. Although I don't feel the need to throw away my plastic (it is, after all, quite convenient in a pinch), this practice is something I would like to continue in the future, perhaps in conjunction with a better-developed budget.

Shake, Rattle, and Roll

A little after 9:00 this morning, as I was sitting in my office, the ceiling started to shake. Now, a momentary shake isn't terribly abnormal since my office hangs over empty space above a sidewalk--"this used to be a porch," the facility people never cease to remind us--but the shaking didn't stop right away.

And then the outer wall/window started to make an odd popping sound. I'm still not sure what it was; I'm pretty sure I don't want to know, actually. A moment later, my desk started vibrating and items on my bookshelves started rattling.

My second earthquake.

I'm told that this state has more earthquakes than any other state--even California--though I don't know if this is true. But according to those who tell such tales, most aren't strong enough to be felt. This one was: somewhere between 4.3 and 5.1 on the Richter scale, they think.

Funny thing was, I wasn't afraid. There really wasn't time to be. By the time I knew how to respond to the strange shaking in my office, it was over.

At the same time, in another part of the world, Chilean miners were being rescued one-by-one from their long imprisonment underground. A couple months ago, their world shook as well. I can't begin to fathom what must have gone through their heads each day down there in the dark, especially during those first 17 days, wondering if anyone would believe they were still alive and come find them, wondering if their last breaths would be breathed in stagnant darkness.

Sweet joy of rescue. Sometimes, the shaking does end--and everyone does emerge from the depths, dirty but unscathed. I hold such days close to my heart. They are evidence that good still happens--and that there is always reason to hope.

Day Two of Cash Only

It struck me today that my little experiment isn't really going to yield the sort of results that will be meaningful. I say this because I started after I already had groceries for the week, and my car won't need to be filled up during this time, either. Also, because I am intent on observing how paying for all purchases with cash will affect my spending habits, I'm pretty sure that I am being more frugal than usual in order to really see if I can do it.

"So what's the point?" I started to wonder. "Is only using cash for the week really a meaningful experiment?"

Well, maybe scientists would fault its construction a bit, but I've decided there is still value in my experiment--if for no other reason than the fact that I am saving money. That's the point, right?

Today I skipped buying coffee and drank a bottled iced coffee that I had purchased some time back. I packed a lunch, and when I was thirsty in the afternoon, I filled my water bottle. Tonight, I cooked dinner and ate at home. No errands today, so no non-food-related desires to spend money.

I realize that some days will include necessary expenses--not all days can go as smoothly as today. But at the same time, going through a day without spending any money brings a good feeling. So far, so good.

Total money spent: $0.00.