When this goes live, I’ll be on the road to the Financial Bloggers Conference outside of Chicago. That translates to a day off here.
Monday, I’ll be back with a whole bucket full of bloggy goodness.
The no-pants guide to spending, saving, and thriving in the real world.
When this goes live, I’ll be on the road to the Financial Bloggers Conference outside of Chicago. That translates to a day off here.
Monday, I’ll be back with a whole bucket full of bloggy goodness.
I spent last week at the Financial Blogger Conference. Saturday night was the big debauch, a 90s themed hip-hop dance party.
Yeah.
Instead, Crystal, Suba, and I hosted a super-secret pizza party to let some of the less “dance party” inclined attendees discuss things like the sanitary concerns of group body shots, sex toys, and horror movies.
During the course of the party, Crystal and I decided to race to pay off our mortgages.
Her balance is just under $25,000.
My balance is $26,266.40.
We both technically have the cash to pay off the balances right now, but we are both dealing with secondary housing issues. She’s building a new one, and I’m updating an inherited house. Neither of us is willing to use our cash reserves to pay off the balance right this moment.
Now that my credit card is paid off, I’ve moved that money to an extra interest-only payment on my mortgage, effectively doubling my mortgage payment, which puts my projected payoff date as about the end of next year. Crystal’s aiming for June, so I’ll have to hurry.
We do have tenants lined up for February, and all of the non-expense related rent will go to the mortgage.
I think I can win.
Update:
I forgot to mention the terms of the bet. The loser has to go visit the winner. When I win, Crystal’s going to fly to Minnesota to experience snow.
Wow. I’m having a hard time believing it’s August already. Every year seems to slip by a little faster, but this summer has truly flown by, somehow without anything to show for it. I haven’t gotten any of the yard work or household projects finished. I’ve taken on so much that I can’t do anything but the side hustles.
This summer, I’ve been busy. I teach classes one Saturday each month, I’ve picked up a couple of web design jobs, I’m the webmaster for a nonprofit, and I’ve taken on an affiliate marketing project. Oh, and I can’t forget my 50-hour-per-week day job or the ebook I’ve promised to help prep and launch. With all of these projects, my cash flow situation is better than its been in a while, but my time is seriously crunched.
That’s not even counting the family activities. We’ve had swimming lessons, birthday parties and family reunions…all in the last month.
Our family is seriously over-scheduled. It seems like there is no downtime, which is a situation I’ve always tried to avoid in the past. Somehow, I’ve lost the ability to say “no”. Because of that, I’m now left with the impossible task of trying to scale back. While I can’t abandon my commitments, I need to work towards resolving them all and not taking on more.
[ad name=”inlineleft”]It’s time to scale back through attrition. In a month or two, I should be down to a sane schedule again, and able to tackle the things I really want to do that have been indefinitely delayed.
Everybody takes on too much at times. How do you avoid over-committing?
It’s entirely too easy to do too much. When every moment of your day has two of more things that need to be done, you’ll do them all poorly. How do you avoid taking on too much?
When I was little, the world was amazing. The first snowfall was among the best days of the year. Everything was worth exploring, in hopes of discovering something new and fascinating, and everything was fascinating.
Stepping on a crack had serious implications. The wishbone in a turkey earned its name. Blowing out all of the candles on a birthday cake could change your life. The idea of some dude half a world away, watching you, then sneaking into your house to dish our rewards and punishments wasn’t pervy and sick, it was wonderful.
Then, one day, it all changes.
Somebody–a classmate, a older brother, a neighbor–let’s it slip that Santa isn’t real, and the implications snowball. That day, the magic dies.
Wishing on a star? Over.
The Easter Bunny? Hasenpfeffer.
Growing up to be Superman? Welcome to the rat race.
It’s a sad day when kids stop believing in magic.
I don’t believe in lying to my children, but I also don’t believe in destroying their magic. It’s a balancing act.
When my son was 6, an older boy at daycare tried to kill Santa for him. He was upset.
“Dad, is Santa real?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t believe in Santa.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know.”
“Nonononononono! Don’t tell him!”
Was it lying? Probably, but he obviously wasn’t ready to stop believing, so I let him continue. A year later, we had the same conversation, but the results were quite different.
“Dad, you’ve always said that you hate lying, so why did you let me believe in Santa?”
So I told him the truth. Magic is a frail thing that’s nearly impossible to reclaim and I wanted him to have that treasure for as long as possible. And, “Now that you know, you are in on the conspiracy. You’ve been drafted. Don’t kill the magic for anyone else.”
It was weird having him help me stuff stockings.
If you’ve got kids(and celebrate Christmas), how do you handle the Santa problem?
I have horrible time management skills.
Part of the reason is that I take on a lot of projects.
Part of the reason is that I’m easily distra…ooh, shiny!
And part of the reason is that I’m a terrible procrastinator. On second thought, that’s not quite true. I’m actually a very good procrastinator. It’s a skill I’ve built up quite well.
Stephen Covey tells a story–one I’ve always heard applied to personal finance–called The Big Rocks of Life.
One day this expert was speaking to a group of business students and, to drive home a point, used an illustration I’m sure those students will never forget. After I share it with you, you’ll never forget it either.
As this man stood in front of the group of high-powered over-achievers he said, “Okay, time for a quiz.” Then he pulled out a one-gallon, wide-mouthed mason jar and set it on a table in front of him. Then he produced about a dozen fist-sized rocks and carefully placed them, one at a time, into the jar.
When the jar was filled to the top and no more rocks would fit inside, he asked, “Is this jar full?” Everyone in the class said, “Yes.” Then he said, “Really?” He reached under the table and pulled out a bucket of gravel. Then he dumped some gravel in and shook the jar causing pieces of gravel to work themselves down into the spaces between the big rocks.
Then he smiled and asked the group once more, “Is the jar full?” By this time the class was onto him. “Probably not,” one of them answered. “Good!” he replied. And he reached under the table and brought out a bucket of sand. He started dumping the sand in and it went into all the spaces left between the rocks and the gravel. Once more he asked the question, “Is this jar full?”
“No!” the class shouted. Once again he said, “Good!” Then he grabbed a pitcher of water and began to pour it in until the jar was filled to the brim. Then he looked up at the class and asked, “What is the point of this illustration?”
One eager beaver raised his hand and said, “The point is, no matter how full your schedule is, if you try really hard, you can always fit some more things into it!”
“No,” the speaker replied, “that’s not the point. The truth this illustration teaches us is: If you don’t put the big rocks in first, you’ll never get them in at all.”
The original point to the story is just as relevant as the personal finance lessons associated with it. If you let your life fill up with the little crap that doesn’t matter, you won’t have time for the important things.
At work, I have 4-5 major projects I’m working on. Some of these are behind schedule. I get interrupted sometimes twenty times per day. Each one of those interruptions kills my concentration; it wrecks my groove. By the time I’m back on track, 20 minutes have passed and I’m getting interrupted again.
No wonder I don’t seem to get anything done.
If I close my door and ignore my email, the little rocks usually don’t fill up my day, allowing me to concentrate on the high-value projects. That’s not always possible, and my coworkers get upset when I throw rocks at them for interrupting me, but it does help me get things done.
Now, I just need to focus on the big things and let the little rocks slide. No twitter, no internet forums, no coworker interruptions. Then we’ll see how productive I can be.
What are your “little rocks”? How do you avoid getting bogged down?
It’s a sad day when kids stop believing in Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, and fairies.
Not because I enjoy lying to my kids, but because–on the day they stop believing–a piece of their innocence is lost. An unforgettable, valuable part of childhood dies.
Believing in magic is a beautiful thing.
Do you remember the last time you looked around the world with a sense of wonder? When seeing a puppy form in the clouds was a miracle? When the idea of an ant carrying 1000 times its own weight was something worth watching? When the impossible goodness of a fat man squeezing down your chimney fills you with hope instead of making you call 911?
Do I believe in Santa?
Of course not, but I believe the concept of Santa is worthy of my children’s belief. I don’t want them to lose that innocence and wonder.
When my teenager was young, he asked if Santa was real. I responded by asking what he thought. When he told me he didn’t believe, I offered to let Santa know. His panic told me he wasn’t ready to give up the magic.
The day that conversation didn’t cause a panic, he looked hurt, like he’d lost something precious. He had.
His world of magic was gone.
The he asked why I had spent his lifetime lying to him. I told him the truth. I said I couldn’t bear to be the one to shatter his belief in magic before he was ready.
Then, I informed him that he was in on the conspiracy. He was not allowed to ruin it for anyone else. Not his sisters, not his friends.
That Christmas, my little boy helped me stuff stockings, which was an odd feeling.
The magic was over, but we still got to share the magic of his cousins and sisters.