Category: Going for Broke

Folks I talk to are researching what gift cards to buy like they’re buying stock.

This year some of the more specialized retailers with plummeting revenues like The Gap and Circuit City are a definite SELL. However, Target (on the heels of relatively steady earnings) rates a tentative buy.

Not a chance. A certain amount of entitlement goes with medical catastrophies.

First iPhone post!

My Palm is almost dead and the Clearwater AT&T store has the 8GB iPhones in stock. We’re getting thousands of dollars in insurance statements, so what’s another $199 (while our credit is still good)?

I’m good with a lot of things that get me out of doing laundry for a few days, but a broken washing machine isn’t one of them.

Miss me? You know you did.

In the last week or so, all of my spare time has been devoted to reading up on bathroom repair and remodeling. We’d planned to do some work on “the most expensive room in the house” eventually, but planning a remodeling project is kind of like planning to travel when you retire. It’s a nice to think about, but there’s always something more important popping up, grabbing your last discretionary dollar.

I say that like I have one.

Well, it’s not discretionary anymore. Woo-hoo! A chunk of tile, wall board, and soap dish came off in Adam’s firm grip a week ago, and now the only thing our bath tub holds is post-consumer construction materials. It actually feels liberating, having circumstances dictate priorities.

One side-effect all of this reading has been the unraveling of Cheryl’s nerves. She’s getting this idea I’m considering doing some of the work myself, and there’s a little doubt floating around. She dares to doubt my skills?!? Am I still the guy that did the tile floors in her parent’s condo, the wood floors in our house, or the sagging shelves in our bedroom? Let me tell you, I’ve got skills. My shop teacher in middle school used to tell me all the time my work was interesting. I’m convinced he meant it in a good way. Plus, I’ve got a pretty good selection of tools meant for cutting, pounding, and prying… just itching for a little action. I figure that old rusting tub has finally met it’s match! Pull up a picture of me and you’ll be looking at him.

I think I know what clinched it for Cheryl. I was feeling full of myself and I let something slip. I told her I needed a small sledge hammer (and possibly a chisel) to break up the cement shower pan installed by the prior owners. In case you’re not a long time reader, the prior owners (of the home office in Dunedin) own a dark chapter in Kauffman history. They promoted “short cut” to a way of life. No one dares speak their name in my presence, out of fear for my safety. Remember the DIY A/C job they made to make a sale, the home inspector who didn’t spot it (or didn’t report it), and the consumer who took his word for it? AGH! I was so naive. It never occurred to me to check the attic on our walk-through, prior to closing. It still hurts to talk about it.

Now you may be thinking to yourself, “Wait just a tub pulling minute! What does a shower pan have to do with a bad tub?” (Hey! I saw that. Don’t you leak any more water mister! Bad tub! BAD!) That or you’re thinking to yourself, “I’d pay money to see you swing a sledge hammer.” (I’ll pretend you didn’t think up that last one.) You see, I may be a little slow, but I’m not (usually) stupid. You just have to connect the dots between our two bathrooms: two places where the prior owners worked their magic. Just make sure you leave enough room on the page to draw a jagged line/detour down the street to the bank, and your friendly neighborhood loan officer.

Here’s Cheryl’s dilemma. Do we pay the big bucks for a licensed contractor, or let my mad skills roam free? What’s the worst that can happen? Heck, we all know how to swim.

I’m not particularly fond of indoor swimming myself, but if you can do something yourself for a quarter the price, finding your inner Bob Villa (assuming you have one) looks pretty tempting (especially when you couldn’t afford it at a tenth the price).

I think I’ve got a brilliant compromise. I do the demolition and most of the re-construction, but we leave the plumbing hook-ups to a plumber. See, I can do reasonable.

My wife was good and mad this morning when she saw this in our email inbox:

I don’t know about you, but I’m not allowed to make this kind of purchase on my own. Lucky for me, the internet age has allowed us to pull up our credit card statements online – so I could prove my innocence really quick. But that got us both to worrying… had someone stolen my identity? We pulled a free copy of my credit report to see if someone had applied for credit under my name. Lucky for our mental health, the internet age also allows us to pull up my credit report instantly. Fortunately, it looks like this was just a simple mistake.

So now that Cheryl isn’t mad at me anymore, and neither of us are worried that someone is ruining my credit, I wonder if this a good time to discuss another computer purchase? Guilt is a terrible thing to waste.

Those are two beautiful words. I’m not saying this because I’m a lobbyist (I’m not by the way). Those two words are significant because we paid off our magnificent iMac today, courtesy of a bonus that appeared in our checking account today (and well deserved, if you’re willing to take my admittedly biased word for it).

I’d feel better if we’d paid off the cars, the roof (which we had to redo last year), or the house; but I’ll settle for this too.

There’s a Judge I go before about once a month who says something to every couple that appears. I hear it all the time (so much that I sometimes hear it in my sleep), but it never ceases to ring true in my ears, particularly now… when I’m paying off a computer we bought on credit (“***WITH NO INTEREST FOR SIX MONTHS!!!***“).

“You guys are probably like everyone else in this country. You spend about 105 percent of what you make….”

There’s usually a lot more to it (including an admonishment, like “… what I’m telling you now is you’re going to have to redirect some of those earnings to your children”), and occasionally with a few well placed swear words mixed in to taste, but you get the picture.