"A Balancing Act"

            I teetered off the edge into depression with an unexpected financial hit. Every year, I set realistic goals for hacking down on credit card debt, and every year something screws up my plan. By substituting almost every day this year, I believed that one credit card would be halved by this summer and paid in full well before Christmas. My positive attitude towards working after retirement flourishes under the assumption that my extra work will pull us out from the enormous balances we carry on a couple of credit cards. When I originally used one of the cards, I didn’t sweat an easy payoff as I planned on paying $650 a month over the minimum payment. A new car payment halved that goal and helping maintain the property taxes for my brother’s home ate up the rest. I readjusted my target to have the card cleared within two years, but life keeps knocking it back month-by-month.

            This year, due to all of my extra work days, I reveled in certitude that finally the credit card balance would be less than half of the current total. We got pummeled with an increase in property taxes, and income taxes took a huge chunk of my spring income. Yet optimism reigned as even that double pounding still left us with enough to pay down half of the card’s balance during June.

            Enter Saturday morning. A lovely Texas spring day dawned with promise of doing a little shopping and eating at our favorite Greek restaurant. I practically skipped out of the house with excitement over spending a splendid day enjoying time off with my family.

            My jubilation punctured immediately with the sight of an extremely flat tire. Needless to say, we ended up purchasing four new tires. We didn’t take the cheapest brand offered, but settled on the next level up with a product we’d used in the past on previous cars. Even with the less expensive choice, our total tipped over $600. The only card with that kind of clearance, of course, was the one I’ve worked so hard to clear.

            I tell myself I should be thankful that we could absorb this financial punch without getting knocked out. Still, the blow has me stunned and off-kiltered; shaking my head in numb disbelief that, once again, we’ve suffered a setback.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

           

“Budgets and Balance Sheets”

 

            I begin every month with taking a legal sized envelope and folding it into fourths. Each quarter gets a week’s designation, and each week receives a spending limit. I record all expenditures on the virgin exterior of the envelope—whether it be a major outflow like $142.15 for groceries or something as minor as $3.14 for a Sonic Slush. At the end of every week, I total the damage, feeling smugly triumphant if I’ve kept our spending in the green, or vowing to do better if we dip into the red. My obsession with number crunching allows us to indulge at the end of the month if anything extra remains. Most of the time, though, we simply break even. By the end of each month, the overstuffed envelope’s surface is covered with numbers and notes on spending habits. It remains in my upper desk drawer until the credit card statement arrives as a means of double checking the balance for our month’s expenses. 

            My obsession continues into my record keeping. I have ledgers dating back to those first months of our marriage where we stretched $850 a month income across apartment rent, utilities, insurance, school loans and food. The numbers may have changed over the years, but my strategy remains the same. I know exactly where every penny goes, can use one year’s budget to project into the next year, and based on one year’s spending will plan financial goals.

            I rarely set the goal of saving money just to save it. We don’t have some huge balance accruing that hasn’t been assigned an end purpose. The chunk of money accumulating in our Money Market goes to taxes on our home this month and anything left over will stay in place for April’s income taxes and work on the car. All of the budgeting and balance sheets pays off in the long run. We work together as a family to reach very specific spending goals. By watching the outflow carefully, we’ve plugged up leaks and pooled funds into building a secure future.

            Sometimes I wonder if I’d hold onto the monthly envelope and colorful ledgers if our income ever rose. Would I stop tracking that dollar spent here? Or that five spent over there? Then I admit with chagrin that number crunching flows through my veins. It’s part of who I am, how I think. Whether I have only a teacher’s retirement income or a million dollars doesn’t matter. I’d track my spending, set my goals, and record all expenditures.

            Maybe I’d just have a larger envelope! 

 

Copyright 20214 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman