Living With The Budget, Part I

Living With The Budget, Part II

Living With The Budget, Part III

Phase IV: Mastery

Finally, after days trekking through bad terrain in bad weather, the Devoted Followers hiked the last mountain. At the summit, they fell panting to their knees at the mouth of the Great Teacher’s cave. The Learned Loner stuck his head out to see what was making that sick rattling noise.

The Followers cried out in gladness. “Master! We have traveled far to ask you our question!”

Living With The Budget, Part I

Living With The Budget, Part II 

Mentsch tracht, Gott lacht. (Yiddish)  Man plans, God laughs.

Phase III: The Budget As Compass North 

Just when I’ve settled cozily into complacency, something happens to remind me that not only have I not arrived, I never will. The learning never stops. The Budget, like a lodestone, has guided my way more than once.

The Hank Situation

After two decades of throwing money away on rent, Hubby and I bought an investment property,

Living With The Budget, Part I

Phase II: Locking Yourself Into The Budget And Throwing Away The Key

Detoxing off credit cards and the ATM is not for the faint of heart. Hubby especially, suffered horribly. Thwarted desire and frustration ran rampant, daily.

“What do you mean, I can’t buy a book?” he would snarl in outrage.

It bit, hard, dealing with Hubby. But way less than the fanged snake of the bill, which would be cornering me like a mouse at the end of the month.  If I gave in to him. “It’s not in The Budget. If you have cash, go ahead.”

Of course he didn’t have any,

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.

...Previously

The heavy bar suddenly pulled me out into space—OHMYGOD!

“Stand up! Stand up tall! You’re a princess!” Trembling fiercely,

Photos by Kathleen Porter

Pulling on the mandatory leggings, I moaned, Why? Why had I registered for this two-hour trapeze workshop?

Sweating, I ambled across the huge meadow fronting the thirty-foot high trapeze scaffolding. “Uncle Tony” strolled up to the check-in table. “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he said. He didn’t bwa-ha-ha, but did he need to?

“Instant addiction, right?” I quipped back. The man’s eyes lit up. Oh God.

“In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer.”   Mark Twain

Son is driving. I am riding shotgun. “Wait for those cars to go by before turn—“ Son abruptly turns left into oncoming traffic.

I tromp on the floor— Where’s the accelerator?!— Ohmygod! I will Son to go faster!Gofaster!Gofaster! Instead, I can’t believe it— he hesitates.

The oncoming car isn’t slowing down.