Death by Costco

I spent five hours in front of my computer today and walked away without accomplishing anything. Okay, that’s not completely accurate or fair. I sent some emails, researched our spring break trip, and had a minor nervous breakdown because we don’t have any money.

Okay, so that’s also not completely accurate or fair. We have money. We’re not going to be applying for food stamps or living in a tent by the river. The thing is, Tenzin has just been “released” yet again from one of his E.R. gigs. Same place, second time — they want him, they don’t want him, they desperately need him, they can’t stand him. I swear, if this hospital were a person, it would be in a mental institution, on lithium, and almost definitely drooling. Anyway, it has come to my attention that we are once again in a negative cash flow situation. That’s twice in less than a year. And here I thought we were recession-proof.

Tenzin and I have always prided ourselves on living within our means, so when I went to the computer today and started plugging in our expenses, I was, for lack of a better word, embarrassed. We spend a ridiculous amount of money every month. But here’s the absolutely worst part: I can’t figure out where the hell it’s all going.

I don’t think I can make this point strongly enough — we’re good with money. We give other people advice about not over spending. We’re conservative. We drive old, unflashy, reliable cars. We don’t dress in the latest fashions or buy the newest tech gadgets or have a bunch of grown-up toys with motors in them. We get our kids clothes at Old Navy. We buy in bulk. We rarely eat out. The first big vacation we ever took with the kids was to Hawaii last year — and that was because Tenzin was going to a conference!

Another point I should make, for storytelling purposes — Tenzin’s work schedule makes most people look like Bob Cratchit. He’s intentionally cut his shifts back and stayed home as much as possible. One, because he hasn’t wanted to miss seeing the kids grow up. Two, because Newt was a handful times one hundred when he was smaller. Three, because he didn’t want to have to institutionalize his wife (see “Two”). So we’ve been living the high life for a good number of years. In our opinion anyway. I’m sure the lower income wouldn’t be considered the definition of the “high life” for everyone.

But back to the budget. I started going through our expenses, line by line, and at the risk of sounding like a spoiled, bourgeois little shit, “How the hell are people making it right now?” I mean, short of losing things like “hot lunch” and “gymnastics,” there’s not much to cut. The big ticket items aren’t budging: mortgage, utilities, insurance. It’d be extremely hard to get rid of the internet and cell phones. So that pretty much leaves haircuts, ballet class, and the college fund. I don’t even know what to say about college, but I certainly can’t dance, and if you saw Newt on his first birthday, you’d know how good I am at haircuts.

My theory, as I work through all of this, is that we’ve been Costco-ing and Target-ing ourselves to death. I have a friend who swore off Target for the new year, and now I know why. It doesn’t nickle and dime you. It five-dollar and 10-dollar’s you. Because, really, it’s just five bucks, right? Five bucks times 20. . . times a trip a week. . . times two stores. . .

So I’m putting myself on a shopping diet. Which feels weirder than I thought it would since I don’t consider myself to be hyper-materialistic. There’s just something about not being able to buy stuff that makes you think about buying stuff. Much like eating and smoking. Which is probably why this is going to fail miserably (much like eating and smoking).

And how do I know this? Because ski season is coming to a close, which means end-of-year sales. And spring break is upon us, which means road trip to lord knows where. . .

Maybe I should learn how to sell things on eBay.