Money Goals and How We Save

I am writing down specific budget goals for the year. April’s not too late, right? Kat’s buy-in is critical of course, but I’ll discuss with her after I’m satisfied with them. I’ve been sort of working toward these goals already; just haven’t taken the time to record them.

Most have to do with savings — increasing what I call our “cushion” savings as well as our larger "emergency" savings. The former is a savings account where our checking is. I dip into it easily via on-line banking and use it to chunk surplus income into (Kat gets overtime, so some months are better than others), then to take money out for large unexpected expenses.

The “emergency” savings is intended to support us for a few months in case of a major event that might lead to losing a steady paycheck. It is in a separate bank which I cannot access quite as easily. I have an automatic payment plan set up with my primary bank that sends money over with each paycheck.

Automating our savings is something I wish I had done much, much sooner. Since I started doing it two years ago, the account has grown to nearly $7,000 (which equals only about three months of pared down spending). If it weren’t automated, we would be lucky to have $2,000 there. The other $5,000 would have been frittered away.

I also want to increase our targeted savings for the kitchen update. The problem with this targeted savings is the current set-up. I separate it in Quicken from our cushion savings, but in reality it’s in the same account. I will be tempted to dip into that for “cushion” type expenses if my cushion account doesn’t bear up under the weight of those pesky financial hits that seem to keep coming.

The latest is a kitty issue. Our sweet, thirteen-year-old cat Beano (Kat named her; long story) has an abscessed molar. The cost of finding this out and fixing it will probably be close to $700. We’ll find out the extent of the damage after her blood work comes back, the results of which will determine the vet’s approach to the surgery. Fortunately  we just received a bit of a bonus. I paid the last of my real estate taxes, and I had over-saved, giving me an unplanned for $400.

I’ve mentioned before that we’re in a better situation with savings and debt than we’ve ever been before, and yet my worry over this latest set-back feels about the same as it would have a few years ago. As I left the vet’s office, I worried about Miss Bean of course, but then I started worrying about the fact that we have five senior pets, and are we well enough prepared for the inevitable increase in vet expenses? (Not really). What happens if they all get sick or need surgery at the same time?

So I indulged in a little hyperventilation.

Going back to what I wrote about Murphy vs Providence, I am determined to cultivate gratitude. I will be grateful for the bonus we received just in time to defray the cost of Beano’s surgery; grateful that it wasn’t worse than it is; grateful that we are in a decent financial position and have the resources to handle home and auto and pet and health issues, even if doing so means we can’t have some of the things we want. How many people don’t have these resources? How many have to deal with problems I can’t even imagine dealing with? I say “Thank you” through gritted teeth and hope that the practice  becomes an orientation toward life -- without the gritted teeth.

So there’s my number one financial goal — to continue to practice gratitude and to trust in life’s abundance. Trust that what we need will somehow be there, and to be grateful when it is. I do have more specific goals to work toward and will post them after chatting with Kat.

Murphy? or Providence?

My dad has a story he likes to tell of his and mom’s first years of married life back in the sixties. He worked at a steel mill; she was a full-time homemaker. They had very little money, but one month he earned an extra $200 on his paycheck. They came up with all sorts of plans for what they might do with the money, but then Mom had a dental emergency, and the cost to fix her teeth was exactly $200. “We just couldn’t get ahead,” Dad says. “Could not get ahead.”

Which is how I feel sometimes. Kat and I have a little extra left over from the tax return that didn’t get spent on the sewing room project. This is the first year we haven’t had to put our tax return on debt, having paid off our credit card. We’ve been talking of putting it toward either our kitchen re-do or our emergency savings. Or, hmm, I’ve always wanted a KitchenAid stand mixer. Is now the time to start researching deals? We could consider it part of the kitchen update (I can rationalize any purchase).

But life throws curves. We had a severe wind storm blow through San Antonio last month. A few of our shingles were knocked off. The repairs cost $270. Then my primary care doc sent me to the dermatologist for a suspicious mole. Two biopsies later, I find out I am to have two skin thingies excised (one a basil cell carcinoma, the other some atypical cells that could turn into a melanoma). I’m sure we’ll pay at least up to our deductible, which is $500, then whatever the co-insurance is after that. Those two things together take care of the last of the tax return and more.

I’ve thought about Dad’s story over the years. This phenomenon of coming into money at the same time some unexpected expense pops up is certainly not unique to my parents. It happens to everyone. I can look at it as Murphy riding in to snatch that extra money out of our hands, or see it as a caring universe (or Providence or however you might name it) giving me what we need when we need it. The first viewpoint leads to frustration and a lot of “Why me’s?” The second evokes gratitude. I will admit I feel frustrated, but I am going to choose to be grateful that we happen to have this money when we need it to repair our home and take care of my health. And I don’t need a mixer anyway :-)

Of Ferals and Fixed Expenses

Earlier I went out to feed our four feral kitties. I fed three, turned the corner to feed the fourth in his accustomed spot, and my heart sank. Another one. A black male, un-neutered and thin. I fed him, though he wouldn't come to the bowl while I was out. We'll borrow a trap to have him fixed, but I don't know if he'll make it. His eyes look bad and his breathing is labored.

This sounds terrible, but I almost hope he has to be put down (almost). We've rescued many animals over the years. Several have gone to homes or to no-kill shelters, others we've kept. We have three dogs and six indoor cats. Earlier this year, ferals started showing up in the neighborhood. We joined the San Antonio Feral Cat Coalition to deal with the problem, and now are caring for four (possibly five) outdoor kitties.

As you can imagine, this is not cheap. We spend an average of $300 a month on food, litter, and treats. We buy high-quality food for our indoor pack, and I'm convinced this has saved us a lot in vet bills over the years. We haven't had a significant vet expense in well over a year (knock on wood), but I know that won't last. Two of our dogs and three of our indoor cats are seniors.

I've been working on our budget, going item by item deciding where to slash. The pet expense is fixed; no way to cut that one. So far I've cut $15 from the cable bill, and Kat and I are discussing slashing it more. That's a pitiful start, but it is a start. This weekend I'll finish up quarterly taxes, then I hope to sit down with Kat and get serious about sketching out new budget goals. Hoo boy. I'd say our biggest challenge is having slightly different philosophies for handling money, but that's a blog post or two (or several dozen) on its own.

Clearing Out Worries

"Live without fear!"
     Command given by the celebrant before the final blessing and dismissal of an Episcopal service

I've been unable to make a major decision, telling myself I will take plenty of time to think things through, waiting until the fall to finally make a decision about whether to pull the plug on my business.

I'm stalling.

I am afraid I will regret leaving real estate. I am afraid I will regret not leaving real estate. The very worst thing I could do is never decide and continue to do a half-assed job at real estate while keeping a toe in my writing ventures. Success at anything requires commitment and focus and passion.

I've been in this sort of twilight world of non-commitment for a while now, long enough to have created habits of thought and attitude in danger of shaping me into a fearful, hesitant person. I want instead to be a fearless, open-hearted, adventuresome person!

To that end, and as a first step, I will drag my fears -- those niggly little worries that live in the dark crannies of my brain -- into the light. Here are a few:

Imagining What Others Will Think of Me.

I got my license a year and a half ago and have trumpeted it to all my friends and acquaintances. Will they think I'm flighty for leaving? Will they respect me less? I have four leads for next year, acquaintances/friends who want to list in the spring. What will they think if I walk away after I've promised to help them?

Disappointing my Broker.

I like my broker very much, and I know he's trying to bring new agents on board. The thought of disappointing him makes me queasy, and that's affecting my ability to think this through.

Failure.

I alluded to this in my last post. I've just closed on the last of five contracts and am not currently involved in a contract process. I have one buyer client who is not in a hurry AT ALL and only two or three weakish prospects. I'm working on it, but what if I can't do it? If I decide to leave right now I won't know whether I would have failed to make it work. If I do leave, I might fail at my writing ventures and whatever Plan B turns out to be.

Money.

Related to the previous. If I stay and am unable to work at least one contract by the end of the year, I will have lost another $1,000 (or close to it) in business expenses. If I leave, I walk away from a lot of potential income, especially given that I have some prospects for this year and leads for work after the new year. And although the height of real estate season is winding down, surely I can drum up at least one contract which would pay my business expenses and give us a couple extra thousand. OTOH, the last drought I endured, between initial contracts shortly after receiving my license and this last spate of contracts, was nearly twelve months. I won't do that again.

Now that these fears are exposed, I can see what pasty little ghost things they are, especially the first three. Time to loosen their power over me.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, "You wouldn't worry about what people think of you if you realized how seldom they do." My friends and acquaintances may take a minute or two to wonder why I'm quitting (if indeed I do) and what I might be up to next, and their musings will quickly be drowned by their own worries. And as for those I've "promised" to help, good for me I happen to know several top-notch agents I can refer them to.

My broker is a big boy. He's been in the business a long time, and though I know he likes me and thinks I have potential, he's seen hundreds of agents come and go. And I'm not exactly a million dollar producer. I think he'll live.

Failure is a matter of perspective. If a venture doesn't turn out as envisioned, it is a failure measured against initial expectations, but the venture has succeeded in moving me along a path to a place I would not otherwise have been, and along that path I've picked up new friends, new skills, and new strength of purpose. (Ok, not much of the latter yet).

The money worry remains a more legitimate concern. It should be the primary concern actually. I started this business solely for the purpose of bringing more funds into the household. So far I've done that, but not nearly the amount I'd expected for the hours worked. Monitoring my business and household budgets and being realistic about projected income will -- I hope -- help me decide this rationally, without a bunch of bugaboos clouding the process.