Wants

Due to my less-than-stellar intern pay, I spend a lot of time contemplating my budget (November numbers coming soon!). I survived just fine on grad student pay, and I didn't obsess too much over little things, but $190 a week gives me little margin for anything. I actually have a slush fund of allowable money to cut into for indulgences during this year (for example, I'm going to DC in January to visit Zandria and some other friends. In my budget? No. In the slush fund, and a reasonable treat? Yes). I saved up for the slush fund once I realized that I would be taking a significant pay cut for this job, so I feel okay spending it.

Part of this contemplation is realizing where my wants lie on a continuum of happiness. Today, I read a stellar blog post about how you can't always get what you want. In it, JD at Get Rich Slowly relates a conversation he had with his cousin. His cousin came up with sage advice: "It’s not want that’s the problem, but the habit of constantly satisfying wants.” That is to say, it is okay to sometimes indulge. You just can't indulge all the time.

JD's big indulgence wish is a minicooper. He pines after that thing. He must mention it at least twice a month on his blog, if not more. But he's considering whether or not it's okay to buy one if he comes into some cash (say, from an inheritance or a book deal). When is it good to address the indulgence? When should you do something more practical with the money?

For me, I'm starting to figure this out. I've got a few examples that ramp up in scale. Since I make nothing near what a normal person might make, we won't even start to talk about cars (tho I must say that I am fortunate to really love a car that is affordable and reliable, so I managed to get my paid off dream car while still making crap for money). We'll stick to little things that actually do influence my minor budget.

Example 1: home items. My boyfriend is even more frugal than I am. Not quite sure how I managed to meet someone just like me. Our dates consist of watching Minnesota hockey or cooking shows (Top Chef!) on his one indulgence, the cable. He lives in a studio apartment, so it's pretty much just a bed, couch, and TV. Therefore, he uses his pillows a lot. He also has a tile floor, and that's cold during the winter. One day we were shopping in Target, and he mentioned that he didn't own a bathmat and should perhaps get one.

We went to look at bathmats. He didn't like the fuzzy ones, but they were the cheapest. The one he really liked was $15, and he walked away saying "I don't want a crappy mat, but I'm not spending $15 on something so basic." It took dedicated convincing on my part to make him see that this was a justifiable indulgence. After all, once you consider cost per use, the thing is cheap. And I haven't even mentioned happiness; in his tiny bathroom, the door has to open over the bathmat, and I'm sure he'd curse up a storm if he had bought the cheap, fuzzy bathmat.

Conveniently, we happened to be near the pillows, and I mentioned that his were, well, pancake flat. And, again, I convinced him to get some nice pillows like the ones I bought for myself last year (Target brand firm pillows: $10!). And, of course, you need new pillowcases to go with new pillows. And he begrudgingly made the purchases.

Not surprisingly, he thanked me the next week. Once he'd spent the money, he was happy he had done so. The benefit of having nice pillows and a good bathmat far outweighed the minor indulgence of buying them. Of course, I'm sure he'll use the bathmat until it's fraying, but that's just sensible, right?

Example #2: my camera. I've written about this before, and I'll continue to use it as an example. I love my Nikon d40. I seriously pined after a dSLR for at least two years, and I wanted one for even more. But I just couldn't pull the trigger; it's hard to spend so much money in one fell swoop for something I didn't technically need. After all, I had a digital camera, and it worked just fine. The money I kept saving for a dSLR was used for buying a new laptop (definitely needed for grad school) or traveling.

When I was in Europe last Thanksgiving, the zoom on my digital camera broke. I cursed at the thing, but I still limped along. I didn't use my camera much, but I still used it. Somehow, since the thing worked, I still couldn't justify a dSLR.

What finally got me was my graduation money (and even then, it was hard to spend it). I got enough cash to buy my coveted Nikon d40. And this purchase was perhaps one of the best I have ever made. I use my d40 all the time. I love the feel of it. And I know I'd love it; heck, I loved photography even when I had a semi-broken camera (which I have now fixed, so I've got two functional digital cameras). This was probably a purchase I should have made sooner. My cost-per-use is miniscule; I've already shot over a thousand photos, and that will just increase. With my old digital camera, I've shot over 10,000 photos in four years, and the d40 is even more fun to use. This was an indulgence well worth the cost.

Example #3: a wii. This is an indulgence I haven't yet made, even though I really enjoy using them. I have fun whenever I visit a friend with a wii. But, when I think about it, I don't know if I'd use it enough. I've got a gamecube, and I haven't even hooked it up since moving to Minnesota. I just don't have the time for video games even though I enjoy playing them.

In this case, a wii is something that I've desired since before it came out. And I'm going to keep desiring it. After all, if you don't want anything, you don't have anything to strive for (paraphrasing from JD and his excellent post). Wanting big ticket items like a wii or a new bike (someday . . . someday) keep me motivated to be frugal. When I lose sight of a big want, I find I frequently fritter more money away on little indulgences that are easy to do, like a $5 magazine (I love Real Simple and National Geographic) or a meal out. Even these small indulgences are fine in moderation; for example, I WILL have sushi when I go home for Christmas, as I've been craving it for months now, but I'm not driving over an hour into the Twin Cities to feed this craving, and I don't buy sushi on a weekly basis like I did in Ann Arbor.

(Fun side anecdote: my brothers and I like this book called "The Tightwad Gazette." We've been reading it for years. Inside, the author gives lots of frugal tips. My brothers and I always decreed one sheer torture, but it doesn't seem so bad now that I've matured some. The parents in the book write about giving treats to their kids. From time to time, they buy cheap little McDonald's ice cream cones for their children. Once the kids start taking it for granted, or if they start clamoring for sundaes, you just reduce the frequency of taking the kids out for this treat. Thus showing that indulgences are not evil . . . in moderation.)

The take home lesson: wants and indulgences are fine. Encouraged, even. But make sure that you don't let these indulgences and wants become everyday needs.