I don’t know about you, but as I watch leading investment firms do spectacular face-plants, I’m rethinking my spending habits. Especially since these fallen financial wizards are counting on my tax dollars to bail them out.
I’ve looked at my bank account, and frankly I don’t know where that $700 billion is going to come from.
The situation has pushed me to utter something I never thought I would: “We need to cut spending.”
“Have you been taken over by aliens?” my husband, Dan, asks.
“I’ve already made some cuts, deep cuts,” I say, trying to convince him I’ve become a thrifty woman.
He’s wary, and raises his eyebrows. My fingers are in front of his face waving like two overstimulated sea anemones.
“Look, I gave up my silk nails, a $40-per-month habit.”
He leans back to adjust for presbyopia.
“And I’ve been using grocery-store hair color.” I throw my head down so he can inspect the haphazard root job. “That’s saving 75 salon dollars every eight weeks.”
From this head-tipped vantage, I take in Dan’s shoes, loafers he’s worn since college, which he alternates with the tennis shoes he’s worn since high school. It’s difficult to discuss thrift with this man, but I press on.
“And, now that it’s fall, I can give up my $25- biweekly bikini wax!” (I try to make this sound like a sacrifice, though I’m pretty happy about not having someone pour hot lava on my inner thighs then rip it off like duct tape.) “And I didn’t even go to the Nordstrom half-yearly sale.”
“Impressive,” he says, nodding above the frayed collar of his polo. He’s unconvinced that a woman who has an advanced degree in consumer spending with a minor in consumer confidence can change.
I also know that he’s not saying what he’s thinking — “Why did it take the Dow Jones Industrials’ crash for her to get a grip?” — because he’s learned what it feels like to be on the business end of my elbow.
“Next,” I continue, “we have to change our grocery habits.”
“You don’t buy groceries.”
This may be the only shopping area where I underachieve. Typically, about an hour before dinner, I dash to the store to buy the fewest items I need to get through one meal. The other night that was one jar of spaghetti sauce. When I came home, Dan held up the $3 jar, and launched into some boring calculation of how it actually cost $10 after factoring in gas, car wear, time and opportunity.
Zzzzz.
When he grocery shops, he grabs a big cart. (I avoid the big cart like I avoid elastic waistbands, and opt instead for those little hand-held baskets, which — and here I must appeal to Isabella Fiori and Kate Spade — really need a redesign.)
Dan whirls up every aisle shopping as if we were anticipating the Great Irish Famine. If something is on sale, he raids the shelf, which explains why we have 27 cans of albacore in water. He brings home a dozen grocery bags, but can’t answer the question, “What’s for dinner?”
“We’re out of control!” I confess to kitchen coach Mary Collette Rogers, founder of everydaygood . I appealed to Rogers for some much-needed cost-saving advice.
“Neither way works,” she said but confirmed my instinct that food is one area where most households can save a lot.
Then she added, “But you guys are classic. May I use your example on my blog?”
By all means.
Syndicated columnist Marni Jameson is the author of “The House Always Wins” (Da Capo). You may contact her through .
Chow for a falling Dow
In my zeal to cut household spending, I reached out to grocery guru Collette Rogers and organizing expert Cynthia Townley Ewer, author of “HouseWorks” (DK Press) and founder of . Here’s what they advised.
Make a meal plan. Buy fewer takeout meals. “People say they’re too busy to cook, but, if you plan a week of meals, buy the ingredients for them (and only them) in one trip to the store, you’ll save time, gas and money, and will probably eat healthier,” Rogers says. Make your meal plan. Write your list. Scour ads for deals. And look for store brands, which offer equivalent quality at lower prices, Ewer adds.
Organize the pantry. So you don’t buy mustard when you have two jars in the pantry, put like with like — canned fruits and jellies in one place, condiments in another, cereals together, etc. Put small items in front, large in back, so nothing gets buried. Be sure the whole household follows the system. As you get down to your last jar of a staple, like canned tomatoes, write it on the grocery list. Dedicate a section to complete dinners. Stock all the ingredients for several meals, like tuna casserole. This will buffer you against emergencies.
Cut down on cleaning products. “You don’t need a bathroom cleaner and a kitchen cleaner,” Ewer says. “A streamlined cleaning tote containing glass cleaner (like Windex), degreaser (409 or Fantastic), dishwashing liquid and tub-and- tile cleaner handles 90 percent of household cleaning chores.” Buy these in bulk from warehouse-type stores, and you’ll pay for product, not packaging. Pour them into spray bottles. To stretch them, use half what you normally use. If that works, try less, until you find the sweet spot.
Bundle your services. Have your Internet, phone and cable service moved to one provider. (Find bundling offers at .) Consider whether you really need all the extras. Can you live without call waiting, premium cable, or satellite? If so, your checkbook will thank you.
