The cost of existing

A couple of interesting articles caught my eye this week on the subject of what constitutes a livable income. One is entitled "America’s Feast-or-Famine Reality: When $100,000 Feels Like Poverty," and it's an analysis of a more in-depth discussion called "My Life Is a Lie" by Michael W. Green, which breaks down the "real" definition of America's middle class. (For the second article, skip the top section and scroll down to the heading "How a Broken Benchmark Quietly Broke America." That's where the interesting stuff begins.)

Apparently the definition of poverty in America is wildly outdated; and as a result, so is what defines the middle class. Using "conservative, national-average data," Green argues that a family of four (two working parents, two kids) must earn a minimum of $136,500 per year to qualify as middle class. This is the financial breakdown (read the article for the explanations):

• Childcare: $32,773

• Housing: $23,267

• Food: $14,717

• Transportation: $14,828

• Healthcare: $10,567

• Other essentials: $21,857

• Required net income: $118,009

• Add federal, state, and FICA taxes of roughly $18,500, and you arrive at a required gross income of $136,500. 

Phew.

I would imagine there are vast discrepancies between urban and rural costs for these categories, but they still seems crazy-expensive.

Since the vast majority of us don't make anywhere near $136,500 per year, the author makes some very compelling arguments for why those in true poverty (at or below $35,000/year) do better – because of government assistance programs – than those whose income exceeds the poverty threshold but doesn't reach "middle class" levels. Green terms this position the "Valley of Death" because it's so hard to escape or get ahead.

I strongly urge you to read the entire article – actually, both articles. Then feel free to share where you fall on this financial spectrum.

Neither poverty nor riches

As Don and I adjust to our reduced-spending lifestyle after my job loss in February, I read a passage in Proverbs 30 this past week that hit like a ton of bricks:

"Two things I ask of you, Lord;
    do not refuse me before I die:
Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
    give me neither poverty nor riches,
    but give me only my daily bread.
Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
    and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’
Or I may become poor and steal,
    and so dishonor the name of my God."

That's what we have: Neither poverty nor riches. Who could ask for more? God is good.

The argument for buying ahead

Don and I have been engaged in several heavy-duty projects lately. Of course you know about the milking stall and calf pen:

Now we're consumed with getting the garden properly fenced against deer. We've foregone making the remaining garden beds in favor of getting the entire garden area covered with weed cloth, rocked in with gravel, braced by extravagantly tall poles, and netted in deer netting. (Don't worry, I'll put up a full blog post on the project when it's complete.)

But here's the thing: We're hardly spending any money during the process of working on these projects. Since my job loss in mid-February, we've cut back our discretionary spending by well over 90% and now purchase very little beyond groceries and our regular monthly bills. This is nothing unusual; over the 35 years of our marriage, frugality has been the norm, not the exception, so tightening our belts is second nature.

However during the last four years since moving to our current home, we were in a unique position with no debt and a modest-but-steady income. During those four years, we bought things.

Lots of things.

We bought things we knew we would need for future projects with the goal of transitioning our property into a homestead. Field fencing, horse panels, hardware cloth, drip irrigation supplies, hog panels, T-posts, cinder blocks, lumber, plywood, wire (various gauges), weed cloth, gravel, sand, rope, fasteners (screws, nails, bolts, hog rings, etc.), tools, deer netting, sheet metal, the 1500-gallon water tank ... the list goes on and on and on and on and on.

During those heady days, even the merest passing fancy could become reality. Don mentioned one day last year that a tool he'd love to have but didn't want to spend the money on was a T-post puller; I bought it for him for Christmas.

Well, those days are over and our spending is done. But you know what? Now we have the tools and supplies we need to bring endless projects to fruition with very little additional outlay. With our current project, for example (the garden), the only thing we've had to purchase was some hardware (hose clamps, notably) and an extra dump-truck load of gravel.

The peace of mind that comes from having all those things poised and ready to use – especially now, with our severely down-turned income – is hard to describe. We're not handicapped by a lack of money in accomplishing our homesteading goals and striding toward self-sufficiency.

Some might argue that we should have spent those four years saving our money or putting it into intelligent investments. Well, we did put some money in savings; and literally everything else was invested. It's just that our form of investment isn't what Wall Street has in mind for high yields.

Now those investments are paying big-time dividends.

Let's hear it for "polyworking"

When most people lose their jobs, they experience panic and worry. There are bills to pay, a mortgage to maintain, perhaps children to support through college or car payments to make. How will they survive without their employment? Frantically they update their résumé and commence the often-disheartening round of answering want ads or blasting out their credentials on the internet, begging someone – anyone – to employ them.

I get this. I totally get this. And for this reason, we've always endorsed having multiple income streams as protection against a job loss. We call this the "many irons in the fire" method of earning a living. The idea behind this is if one iron disappears, you have multiple other irons still sizzling. If you lose your job, you still have other income streams and won't be left destitute. You can then concentrate on honing those other streams into larger producers, either until such time as you find another "primary" job, or decide to permanently shift into having multiple part-time jobs.

This is a surprisingly common tactic with rural people, where jobs are often very low-paying. Over the years, we've met people with an astounding variety of "irons." We knew one fellow who operated heavy machinery, flew helicopters, and raised bison. We knew a woman who cleaned houses, sold crafts, and worked as a substitute teacher. Yet another woman sold produce at farmer's markets, babysat children for a working mother, and did desktop publishing projects for local businesses.

Laying multiple income irons in the fire is a matter of harvesting any and all experience, interests, potential, or opportunities, seizing any (ethical, legal) means to earn money, especially since you never know where it might lead. In our situation, we give preference to jobs we can do from home.

People have done everything from remote teaching (foreign languages? music?) to becoming an online travel agent to blog maintenance to moderating forums to operating ticket sales to freelance writing. Others have exploited skills or experience they've cultivated in the past. Waitressing, fixing computers, building crafts, driving trucks, tutoring children, carpentry, welding, painting, even home organization ... all can earn money.

Of course, these side gigs aren't likely to pay much. But income from numerous irons can get pretty darned close – $500 here, $1000 there, and pretty soon you're earning a decent collective paycheck.

Our philosophy is it's better to have ten income streams each paying $500 per month than a single income stream paying $5,000 per month. Losing one iron of the former is an annoyance. Losing the one single iron of the latter is devastating.

Anyway, all this is an introduction to an article I saw this morning entitled "'Polyworking' Is Gen-Z's Answer to Surviving a Fraught Job Market."

Ahh. The "many irons in the fire" approach we've endorsed for decades now has a snappy new name: Polyworking.

"This rising career trend, which involves juggling multiple jobs at once, has surged in popularity over the past few years, reshaping what it means to build a career in an era of instability and ambition," notes the article. "Nearly half [of Gen Zers] are working multiple jobs, with 47 percent clocking in at three or more gigs. And those numbers? They're still climbing. This isn't just about ambition; it's about adapting to survive in a world where one job is rarely enough. Unsurprisingly, the primary motivation is financial security. In a period of economic uncertainty, who wouldn't want to stockpile some extra cash each month?"

Well ... yeah. Of course. It just makes sense.

The "polyworking" people we've known over the years seldom worked multiple jobs for the joy of it, although of course some enjoyed the creative side of crafting or making cakes or whatever. Instead, people understood the importance on not relying purely on one income stream, only to be devastated when that stream disappeared.

The article does profile people doing work they love. One guy in New York City works as an indoor cycling teacher, dance choreographer, and freelance writer and author, and waxes eloquent about the joys of earning money by following his passions. He says, "The only way I'm able to handle working so many jobs at once is because I only work jobs I love."

The article mentions the need for balance to avoid burnout, which – trust me – is 100 percent true.

The article concludes with, "In the end, polyworking is less a trend than a recalibration of what modern work looks like. For some, it's about passion; for others, it's pure necessity. Either way, the message is clear: In today's economy, one job often just isn't enough – so people are making room for more."

What's old is new again. Let's hear it for "polyworking."

Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?

Don saw a startling headline a couple days ago: "Burrito Now, Pay Later: DoorDash-Klarna Deal Feeds U.S. Debt Addiction."

In a nutshell, the food delivery service DoorDash, having teamed up with the online financial server Klarna, will "let cash-strapped consumers pay for restaurant food, groceries and other delivery orders in four equal, interest-free installments, or "at a more convenient time, such as a date that aligns with their paycheck schedules."

Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?

This article sparked a lively discussion in the Lewis household. Older Daughter used to drive for DoorDash to earn extra money (this was during the pandemic lockdowns), so she's more familiar with the service than we are. But the one thing we kept noticing during the time she was driving was how much the price of a meal got jacked up as a result of the service (delivery + tip).

In some ways, this highlights a conundrum I've never understood. The article refers to "cash-strapped consumers." But if you're strapped for cash, why are you ordering food? If you can't afford a takeout meal, why are you ordering one? What is the financial benefit of spreading payment over four installments? What am I missing?

Maybe part of this era of DoorDash and other food delivery options has to do with a general aversion to cooking. Scratch cooking appears to be a dying art, and people have this big space in their house or apartment devoted to food preparation that never sees anyone prepare any food. Instead, people will order food and then be unable to afford to pay for it all at once.

Lest I sound too much like a curmudgeon, I understand there are times someone may be too tired or too sick to cook, in which case food delivery is nice for an occasional treat. The fact that such options don't exist in our rural area doesn't reflect the immense popularity of these services. But ordering food all the time? Yikes.

"Buy Now, Pay Later (BNPL) arrangements have surged in recent years," notes the article. "However, what began as a reasonable accommodation for large purchases like appliances and furniture has now metastasized to a point where Americans can finance Friday-night-pizza impulse-buys."

Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks this is a bad idea. The article notes, "For the financially disorganized or imminently insolvent, the interest-free option could prove to be a siren song that leaves their cash flow dashed against the metaphoric rocks of unexpectedly expensive burritos and Kung Pao chicken. ... Even for those who make timely payments, the interest-free option can have a destructive effect over time, by encouraging consumers to commit to spending more money than they would in the absence of the appealing, 'interest-free' enticement.

It continues: "The problem is these things start having a very pervasive and very negative influence on people who can't afford it,' Anish Nagpal, an University of Melbourne marketing professor who studies behavioral decision-making, told the Washington Post. "They just want something now, and they go into this spiral of debt and always trying to chase up and meet the payment requirement."

Don speculates that perhaps DoorDash – which boomed during the pandemic – might be experiencing hard times and looking for ways to boost their business. However this is pure speculation.

It strikes me that lessons in impulse control, scratch cooking, and money management would all be equally useful additions to our educational system.

Black belts in frugality

For obvious reasons, the subject of frugality has been very much on our minds lately. Now that we're facing our first full week without gainful employment, I thought it might be useful to describe our belt-tightening activities.

Our black belts in frugality didn't start last week, or last month, or last year. The foundation was laid way back in 1992 when Don and I gave up our well-paying city jobs and moved to a fixer-upper on four acres in southwestern Oregon. We went from a combined income of $70K (extremely decent for the time) to zip, zero, zilch, nada. Now that was an adjustment.

But we made it work and, needless to say, learned a lot.

As a financial exercise for our current belt-tightening, I looked up some budgeting advice, much of which involved creating spreadsheets for various categories. Almost all budgeting advice includes the need to be flexible (for when life throw you lemons) and the importance of tracking one's spending

One such article had some sensible advice, including splitting income between needs (50%), wants (30%), and savings (20%). Personally I'd drop that "wants" category by quite a bit, but then we're still in the adjustment phase, not maintenance phase.

This website listed 18 budgeting categories as follows:

• Housing (rent, mortgage, taxes, insurance, maintenance, HOA fees)

• Transportation (payments, gas, repairs, insurance, parking fees, registration, public transportation costs, etc.)

• Food (grocery costs, restaurant meals, take-out or delivery, coffee shop stops, alcohol, work lunches)

• Utilities (propane, electricity, water, cell phones, internet, trash)

• Medical/health care (insurance, prescriptions, eyeglasses, out-of-pocket costs)

• Additional insurance (life, disability, etc.)

• Taxes (state, federal)

• Education/childcare (N/A in our case)

• Debt payments (personal loans, student loans, credit cards)

• Retirement/savings (something, hopefully, we won't touch; but nor are we likely to be able to add to it for a while)

• Household items/supplies (cleaning supplies, paper goods, home decor, small appliances)

• Personal care (hair, nail, makeup, beauty items, massages, spa treatments)

• Clothing (including shoes, accessories, purses, backpacks, work clothing)

• Entertainment (gym memberships, cable TV, movies, events, bars, hobbies/crafts, streaming services)

• Travel (airfare, car rentals, tickets, hotels, souvenirs)

• Pets (food, medication, vet visits, accessories such as toys)

• Gifts/charitable giving (charity, church, holidays, special events such as birthdays, etc.)

• Miscellaneous (could include things like bank fees, "excessive personal spending," postage, etc.)

I've said it before: If we had to lose our major income stream, it couldn't have happened at a better time in our lives. However that's because we've spent years pre-positioning ourselves in some major, major ways.

Some of those major pre-positioning tactics include:

• Living in a low cost-of-living area. Most, though not all, rural areas fall into this category.

• Purchasing our home outright when we sold our last place. This decision meant we had to limit our options to what we could afford, which means our current home is not our "dream" home, but that's okay. We're in the process of making it into our dream home, and that's what counts.

• Years of whittling down expenses. Make no mistake, this takes practice; but the results can be astounding (as the budget analysis below will show).

• Purchasing in advance things we knew we would need. During times when money is less tight, buying up things you know you'll need not only fights against inflation, but provides a cushion when income drops. We don't have to buy coffee or tea, for example, because we have plenty. We bought a rototiller last fall (a very high-ticket item for us), and now it's ours whenever we need it. Remember when I bought a few extra pairs of prescription eyeglasses? Yeah, ask me how happy I am to have those in reserve (I am absolutely blind without my glasses). We pre-purchased building materials when we could afford it, so when it comes time to build a chicken coop, finish the garden infrastructure (including fencing and drip irrigation), construct a calf pen and milking stall, etc., the out-of-pocket expenses to complete these projects should be low.

• Getting out of debt. Oh heavens, the freedom that comes with being out of debt is indescribable. This isn't something that can be accomplished easily; but if you still have a dependable income, I recommend aggressively paying off debt as fast as humanly possible. And then – this is important – don't acquire more. It's one of the reasons we transitioned to an all-cash lifestyle so many years ago; it means we don't fill up our (single) credit card with frivolous purchases.

So anyway, this is how we handle the budget categories listed above:

• Housing (rent, mortgage, taxes, insurance, maintenance, HOA fees). We have no mortgage, and we budget for the two bills we'll get every December: property taxes and homeowner's insurance. Our property taxes went up (no surprise), and now we pay about $1000/year. Our homeowner's insurance nearly doubled to $2000/year. Since both these bills come due in December, we have time to save up for them.

• Transportation (payments, gas, repairs, insurance, parking fees, registration, public transportation costs, etc.). We own our older (used) cars outright, so insurance is low; however we often have to pay for repairs as a result of driving beaters. Since we work from home, we probably spend about $150/month on gasoline (driving to town for church, errands, etc.). Don did mention he plans to curtail those "quick trips" to the hardware store for this or that, and instead will plan and combine such trips with other errands to avoid using gas. This means we'll be more housebound, but we're homebodies anyway, so it's no biggee.

• Food (grocery costs, restaurant meals, take-out or delivery, coffee shop stops, alcohol, work lunches). Take-out or delivery food is unheard of in our area, so that's not even on our radar. We had been in the habit over the last couple years of enjoying a restaurant meal about once a month, so that stops. We don't frequent coffee shops, have work lunches, or buy alcohol. (Once my current box of chardonnay is gone, it's gone.) Our pantry is full, as is our chest freezer, so with the exception of fresh vegetables, our food expenses are low, especially if we cut back on frivolous things. Besides, this year we'll have a garden and fresh milk from our own cow.

• Utilities (propane, electricity, water, cell phones, internet, trash). We have no water or trash costs. Our water comes from our well, and our trash is covered by our property taxes (our area doesn't have pickups, but rather centralized dumpsters). Normally our electricity bill is about $110 a month, but it spikes to almost twice that in the winter, because we use a stock-tank heater to keep the livestock water ice-free. We don't have smart phones (just one "dumb phone" for roadside emergencies), and of course we have internet service. Bottom line, there isn't a lot we can cut from our utilities.

• Medical/health care (insurance, prescriptions, eyeglasses, out-of-pocket costs). This is probably the biggest question readers have about our frugal lifestyle. How do we handle health insurance? Don is now covered by Medicare, and I'm covered by Christian Healthcare Ministries (a medical sharing business). Our monthly out-of-pocket costs for both these programs comes to about $415 for the two of us. Neither of us are on any prescription medicines, except Don's low-dosage blood pressure medication, which costs about $200/year. We thank God that we're in good health.

• Additional insurance (life, disability, etc.). We have no additional insurance.

• Taxes (state, federal). We pay quarterly taxes since we're self-employed. I'm working on our taxes at present; what we pay in quarterlies may go down since we can document a large income drop.

• Education/childcare. Not applicable in our case.

• Debt payments (personal loans, student loans, credit cards). Not applicable in our case.

• Retirement/savings. Contributions to our retirement savings is obviously taking a hit, and hopefully we'll never be in a position where we have to tap into our retirement savings.

• Household items/supplies (cleaning supplies, paper goods, home decor, small appliances). Not applicable, especially when on a budget. We have enough cleaning supplies and toilet paper to last a while, and home decor isn't even on our radar.

• Personal care (hair, nail, makeup, beauty items, massages, spa treatments). Bwahahaha. Nope.

• Clothing (including shoes, accessories, purses, backpacks, work clothing). Again, nope. We have plenty of clothes and shoes. Besides, I hate clothes.

• Entertainment (gym memberships, cable TV, movies, events, bars, hobbies/crafts, streaming services). Not applicable in our case.

• Travel (airfare, car rentals, tickets, hotels, souvenirs). We travel very little, and will travel even less going forward. I haven't flown since 2019. Don and I took a couple of road trips last year, but that's not likely to happen this year. The one trip we do have budgeted this year is to drive down to southern California to visit my very elderly parents.

• Pets (food, medication, vet visits, accessories such as toys). We have a lot of dog food on hand, and of course we take Mr. Darcy to the vet when necessary. We'll also be needing some additional hay for the cows before long, which we'll purchase as needed. We are responsible for the pets and livestock under our care, and have no intention of neglecting them.

• Gifts/charitable giving (charity, church, holidays, special events such as birthdays, etc.). It was a tough decision, but we had to cut back on our charitable donations (church and other charities). We hope God understands. As for holidays and birthdays, etc., the only time we ever spend money for these events is at Christmas (and not much even then), so we'll see what this upcoming holiday is like.

• Miscellaneous (could include things like bank fees, "excessive personal spending," postage, etc.). We have no bank (or credit union, in our case) fees; "excessive personal spending" is out of the question; and we'll handle other miscellaneous expenses as they come up.

When we sat down for our "budget summit" after I got the news I was being laid off, we estimated our streamlined yearly expenses (including food, charitable giving, taxes, insurance, etc.) to be around $18K. We're confident we can bring in that amount through freelance writing, so at this point, we're optimistic we'll be able to continue.

As Don put it, our goal is to give ourselves bonus points for wherever we can cut costs. He's talking about taking me out for pizza on a Friday or Saturday night as a sort of last hurrah (we haven't been able to do this for years!), but then ... that's it. Future pizzas will be made at home.

So this explains our black belts in frugality. I welcome any thoughts on how we can cut more costs and trim our expenses even further.

How frugality can save a marriage

A small bit of backstory which most of my long-time readers already know.

When Don and I got married in 1990, we were living in Sacramento. We both had solid well-paying jobs and were living in a nice rental house. We gave up those jobs in early 1993 and rather impulsively moved to rural southwest Oregon, where we bought a fixer-upper on four acres.

The "excuse" for this drastic move was to send me to grad school (Southern Oregon University, where I earned my master's degree in 1995). At the time we moved, we knew we were at a rare now-or-never junction: No kids, no debt, a modest savings account. We were confident our work history would allow us to find decent-paying jobs in our new location.

We were wrong. Our income went from a combined $70K per year (very decent for the time) to zip, zero, zilch, nada. During our first five months in Oregon, while I was in school full-time and accruing debt via student loans, Don was desperately getting the woodcraft business started, which turned into our primary income for decades. By the end of my schooling, I was pregnant with Older Daughter, and becoming a mom took priority over the career I hoped to enter with my master's degree.

And so we struggled financially. We accrued credit-card debt through sheer desperation. We had student loans to pay. We had hospital bills (for the births of our two babies, plus the time Don cut the tip of a finger off on a power tool). I worked outside the home in tandem with Don's schedule (which usually meant nights) so we could trade off child care and avoid costly daycare.

Money struggles drive some couples apart, but it pulled us closer together. We realized the home woodcraft business was the key to allowing us to live rural (this was before remote work via the internet was an option), and we clung to that dream through thick and thin. We never wanted to move back to the city. Ever ever ever.

So we buckled down to make it work. We learned frugality to the nth degree. We learned to raise our babies on an absolute shoestring. Amy Dacyczyn, author of "The Tightwad Gazette" (picked up frugally at a thrift store), was my guru during these years.

It took a long time – especially on a woodcrafter's income, plus whatever part-time work I managed to pick up – but gradually we dug ourselves out of the debt hole we had dug ourselves into, and breathed the light of day once more. The experience left me with something of a pathological fear of owing money as well as a deep-seated hatred of credit cards, but there you go.

It was partly due to our hatred of credit cards as well as a few sour experiences with data breaches (see here and here) that we adopted an all-cash lifestyle over ten years ago, and never looked back. An all-cash lifestyle means we aren't shocked every month by a huge credit card bill. The only reason we use our credit card (yes, singular; we only have one) is to make occasional online purchases, and we also put our monthly expenses (health care, utilities, etc.) on it. And. Then. We. Pay. It. Off. Completely. Every. Month. Without. Fail.

Even today, when our financial position is blessedly more stable (though still modest), we discuss endlessly what we would need to do to tighten our belts and reduce our expenditures should our income fall. I think a little part of us is always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Anyway, the reason for this little backstory is because of a post I read yesterday, seeking advice. The post read as follows, edited slightly for clarity:

"I (male, 35) have been married to my wife (32) for five years, and we've been struggling financially for the past few months. I lost my job about three months ago, and while I've found part-time work, it doesn't pay nearly as much as before.

"We've had to cut back on a lot of things, but it feels like no matter what we do, we're still living paycheck to paycheck and even pulling from savings.

"Recently, my mom (65) came over to visit, and she noticed how stressed I was about the money situation. She offered some advice on how we could save money – things like cutting down on takeout, meal prepping to avoid buying groceries multiple times a week, and switching to cheaper brands. My mom has always been frugal, especially when she was raising me and my siblings on a tight budget.

"I thought it made sense, especially since we're really trying to save wherever we can. I asked if she was willing to go through our spending and show where we could cut down. My wife agreed with this.

"She made a whole spreadsheet about our spending, and we are spending wayyyyy too much on fun stuff. We don't need Starbucks every day and so on. It also became apparent that most of the fun spending was my wife's.

"To be honest, my wife didn't take the breakdown well and started arguing with my mom that her spreadsheet was wrong. She said that my mom's way of doing things is "outdated" and doesn't work for us. She doesn't want to give up buying organic produce, and she likes having variety in what we eat each week.

"I tried to explain that we need to make some sacrifices if we want to get out of this financial hole, but she kept insisting that things weren't as bad as I was making them out to be and that we just needed to "ride it out."

"My mom left at this point and we were still arguing, and she told me she can't give up her takeout. She also went on about my mom being wrong. That's when I lost my patience and said, "You're f***ing wrong. My mom is right. She managed to raise three kinds on one income, and we can't even cut back on groceries for a few months?"

"My wife got really upset, saying I am being a huge jerk for siding with my mom and that my mom is outdated. She's barely spoken to me since, and now I'm wondering if I went too far. But the way I see it, we need to be realistic about our situation, and my mom's advice could actually help us get back on track."

The poster later added: "She (the wife) works part-time and doesn't wish to go full-time. It's not good for her mental health. I'm still the primary earner even with part-time."

Don and I have discussed this post quite a bit. We remember those days of financial struggle and how we tightened our belts. Restaurant meals, takeout foods, and food delivery were absolutely out of the question during those days. We might splurge and get a pizza maybe once or twice a year; the rest of the time, we cooked at home. Cloth diapers, homemade baby food, second-hand everything – that was just the order of the day.

But here's the thing: We looked upon these frugal habits as a challenge, not deprivation. We raised our girls in a happy, stable home. We never thought of ourselves as "poor."

That's why I can't fathom the wife's attitude in the post above. Couples should work together to overcome difficulties and achieve goals, not continue to spend above one's income. By insisting on not changing her spending habits – especially if she's not willing to work full time (I saw no mention that they had children) – I don't see a happy outcome for this marriage ... which is a shame.

Frugality isn't rocket science. It's mostly a matter of an attitude adjustment ... and that includes ignoring the opinions of others or trying to keep up with the Joneses.

Frugality is such a fun, creative lifestyle that it's a pity the lack of interest in adopting thrift can cause marriages to break up.

YOLO living

Sometimes when I wonder whether to address a topic here on the blog, I go with "clusters." What I mean is, I'll see or read something and think, "Huh. That's interesting." And then, unconnected to the original source, I'll see something else on the same subject and think, "Maybe I should write something about this." Clusters.

Often, of course, the coverage is clustered solely because it's a topic trending in the news; and that's why I'm discussing today's subject: YOLO living.

YOLO, as I'm sure you know, is an acronym for "You Only Live Once." It's been trending lately as a rather despairing response to high costs of living and low wages, and the frustrations that people – especially younger adults – feel with an economy that's against them.

YOLO living is exemplified by reckless spending on unnecessary items (including travel) because, hey, you only live once. It's often referenced in contrast to the nose-to-the-grindstone attitude of earlier generations.

Consider, for example, this video about a young woman complaining about her $8 coffee while drinking $8 coffee. I can't embed the video here, so I transcribed it. She says:

"So as I'm sitting here, sipping this $8 coffee, I'm just wondering if I'm the only girl living in the delulu land, because I cannot afford this $8 coffee. I honestly can't afford s***. I can't afford my car, my house, groceries ... I mean, like, how can this coffee be $8 when minimum wage is literally, like $8? So excuse me while I just continue to live in the delulu land while I continue go get my coffees I can't afford, because I'm going to continue to live and dig myself deeper and deeper and deeper into a gigantic financial hole because it cost too much to f***ing live. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Bye."

Don is the one who brought this video to my attention by asking, "How much does coffee cost per pound these days?"

I had just been to the city for my once-a-quarter Big Shopping, so I knew precisely how much coffee costs. "I just filled up some bags with fresh-ground coffee at Winco for $8 a pound," I replied.

That's when he pointed out this video on the $8 coffee, and we speculated how many coffee drinks could be made with a pound of ground coffee. Short answer: a lot.

But hey, you only live once, right? Why shouldn't this woman enjoy her expensive coffee? Everyone deserves a little treat now and then.

The problem, I'm speculating, is the $8 coffee is not just "now and then," nor is it the only thing she recklessly spends money on. As she admits, she's "going to continue to live and dig myself deeper and deeper and deeper into a gigantic financial hole because it cost too much to f***ing live."

I sense her frustration. I sympathize with her frustration. But how will it end? The debt won't go away just because she's frustrated and angry and feel she deserves the occasional treat.

Now consider this article: "Economists are sounding alarm on 'YOLO' credit bubble." The author writes, "A growing percentage of Americans are becoming reckless with their spending, fueling what one economist calls a 'super duper' credit bubble. In a note to clients, economist David Rosenberg of Rosenberg Research warned that Americans are taking on too much debt to buy things they really don't need. He calls these people 'YOLO spenders,' which refers to the catchphrase, 'You only live once.'"

The article goes on to document the amount of credit card debt people are taking on, reaching all-time highs, and points out the obvious dangers of splurging on credit when it can't be paid off.

YOLO spending differs from survival spending. In this economy, a lot of people are maxing out their credit cards simply to pay their bills. I get that. I totally get that. In the past, we had crushing credit card debt due to the economic reality of raising a family on a very tight income. It took many years to climb out of that financial hole. In fact, those debt years left me with something of a pathological fear of owing money.

That's why this YOLO spending strikes me as irrational to the point of madness. It's one thing to max out a credit card because you're desperately trying to keep your head above water. It's a whole different thing to max out on YOLO luxuries. These spenders must know a day of reckoning will loom, right? If you can't afford $8 coffees, maybe you should buy a pound of ground coffee for $8 and make your own beverage at home...?

While I understand – and sympathize – with the frustration expressed by the young woman in the video, I can't help but feel there are better ways to go about enjoying the small pleasures of life without digging yourself "deeper and deeper and deeper into a gigantic financial hole."

Debt is terrifying enough if it's incurred simply for survival. But debt incurred simply to live it up seems like madness.

What advice would you offer this young woman, besides not buying $8 coffees?

Silent depression?

I came across an article recently called "Lessons from the Great Depression" that recapped a memoir of that decade. This sent me down a links-leading-to-links rabbit hole about other wisdom from the 1930s. I thought it might be worthwhile examining and consolidating these stories, especially since so many economists and other experts are predicting something similarly catastrophic for America (and the world) in the upcoming year.

My parents were born in the middle of the Great Depression: My mother in 1931, my father in 1935. Mom was born in poverty in the bayous of Louisiana; Dad was born to working-class immigrant parents in Buffalo, New York. Both bear mental scars from that decade of their youth because of how their parents and neighbors coped with the hardships.

While people are stating unequivocally that currently we're not in a depression (largely on the basis that the stock market hasn't crashed in a suitably dramatic fashion), others claim we're already in a "silent depression."

This hit home after watching a short video comparing the costs of homes, rent, and income between 1930 and 2023.

"You're in a Silent Depression," says a man calling himself Wall Street Silver (Freddie Smith, a realtor based in Orlando). "When you compare the Great Depression to today, this is absolutely going to blow your mind. In 1930 during the Great Depression, the average home in America was $3,900. The average car was $600. The average monthly rent was $18, or $216 a year, and the average salary was $1,300 a year. Fast forward to today. It is $436,000 for the average home, $48,000 for the average car, and the average rent is $2,000 a month or $24,000 a year, and we have a $56,000 income for the average American right now.

"So if you look back to the Great Depression, the house was only three times the average salary. Now it is eight times the average salary. The car was 46% of the salary. The car today is 85% of the salary. And here's the craziest part. The rent was 16% of the average salary. It is now 42% of the average salary."

And of course, there's the issue of unemployment. During the Great Depression, unemployment famously reached 25 percent. Now? Well, it depends on what sources you consult. Shadowstats (which uses the original metrics that were used to calculate such things) reports a current unemployment rate of, well, 25 percent.

Additionally, a frightening 62 percent of Americans are living paycheck to paycheck (this being called "the main financial lifestyle among U.S. consumers") and 74% of Americans (understandably) say they are stressed about finances. Sadly, as one economist pointed out, "Because real wages have declined so much over the last three years, consumers have turned to debt to maintain their standard of living." Food pantries are struggling.

Tucker Carlson, in interviewing economist Stephanie Pomboy, noted people used to be suspicious of debt, but now the entire economy is based on that vice (rather than being built on real things, which are now outsourced overseas). But, though policymakers still have their blinders on regarding the dollar remaining the world's reserve currency, all that is changing ... and changing rapidly. Pomboy says, The demise of the U.S. hegemony is really upon us, and ... so many in Washington are just sleeping right through it as if it's not a reality."

As Ayn Rand so memorably put it, "You can ignore reality, but you can't ignore the consequences of ignoring reality."

If we are in a depression, it behooves us to learn from the last one. I've often wondered if people knew in 1928 what would happen in 1929, what could they have done to brace themselves? In light of the current situation, I think that question is just as pertinent today. What is the best way to brace for a looming or current economic depression?

To answer this, I drew advice from several pieces on the subject of "Lessons of the Great Depression" (here, here, and here) and plucked out some pertinent concepts. If nothing else, it strikes me that these pertain to current and future times as well.

• Diversify everything from investments to skills (generalists and jacks-of-all-trades thrived).

• Fewer bad things happen to those who are debt-free.

• Need less and waste less. Get lean.

• Multiple income streams are better than one solitary stream, no matter how large.

• Wean yourself off dependency wherever possible, everything from addictions to government aid.

• Tangible investments are often better than intangible investments. Livestock and gardens reproduce.

• Band together whenever possible (family, neighbors, church) to help each other out. There is strength in numbers.

• Belief in a Higher Power was a massively sustaining force for when people were at their lowest.

• "The situation at hand had the final say." People were forced to roll with the punches and adapt to their circumstances. No amount of anger, despair, or bargaining could change reality.

• Be generous. Personal circumstances can change in an instant.

• Always look for work. This doesn't (necessarily) mean you're working a second 40-hour-per-week job; but it does mean you're taking advantage of side gigs or odd jobs that come your way. Even unpaid "work" has its merits, as it teaches you skills, develops your reputation, and broadens your influence.

• The concept of "retirement" changed completely. People worked as long as they were able.

What other tips would you add?