Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Irritation Threshold Drift

Last weekend I went camping with my wife and our children. As I was the one who, on accident, left the camp stove at home then I was the one who had to make all the meals, over the fire. Morning... in the skillet... pancake batter getting rained on -- yes, it was a very rainy morning. And I had a big ol' smile on my face, one of those deep smiles that goes all the way to my heart. Part of it was because I sometimes like the rain (but nothing wrecks a camping trip for me like wet toes), but part of it was because this symbolized a bit of a personal victory for me, as this essay will explain.

It starts with my car: It has a squeak. It's not a serious squeak, just an irritating one -- as in: it drives me nuts. If you told me you could fix it for $5, I would give you $7.50 and invite you to keep the change. But if you said you could fix it for $50,000 then I would continue to just live with it. Somewhere between $5 and $50,000 is a line, a threshold of sorts. On the one side of the line I "live with it" and on the other side I do what it takes to remove the irritation.

Just a couple years ago I was in graduate school. I finally graduated and got a "real job." My income rose a bit, but my wife and I have remained true to our desires to not succumb to "lifestyle escalation:" We like the simple wholesome life; we like to live debt free, like taking saving and financial security seriously; we don't like indulging in general, nor waste; we like growing some of our own food and being self-sufficient to some extent. We left grad school happy, and still are.

But a couple years have passed since then, and I've been observing something odd in my life: a drift in my irritation thresholds. It used to be, when the threads came out in that one part of my winter glove and the snow got under there, that I would live with it for a while longer. Of course, at some point I would decide it was a better use of my life to get some "new" gloves (often from the thrift store). I still do that, but the number of threads that needs to be out before I make the transition has mysteriously shrunk a little over the last couple years.

I'm no more "indulgent" than I used to be -- just trying to keep my fingers warm. I'm no more picky about my shoes -- just avoiding the ones that hurt my feet. I'm no more a car snob than I used to be -- just wanting one that doesn't have that squeak. I'm no more a mansion lover than I used to be -- just don't want the irritating problem of not having enough space. I'm not the sort of rich guy that has his own jet just for fun -- I just hate standing in lines at the airport and had to do something about it. And suddenly (ok, so I don't have a jet, or a mansion, or a new car, or new shoes, or even new gloves for that matter), suddenly I find myself sympathizing with some portion of the "lifestyle of the rich" which I had always eschewed: it is that little portion of their lifestyle which is attributable to Irritation Threshold Drift -- why put up with an irritation if it's essentially free to fix it?

Wanna know something that irritates me all to pieces:? Finding myself more sympathetic to lifestyle escalation than I used to be. Argh! It means I'm choosing to be wimpier than I was just a few years ago -- and this hurts double hard as my body gets creakier already: I don't want to be an old wimpy guy... do I? What's wimpy about getting that squeaky part of my car fixed "for free?" Anybody would consider me nuts to not get it fixed if it were free.

My definition of “essentially free” has drifted. As a consequence, the threshold for when I decide to pay for removing an irritation has drifted. And I find myself sympathetic to that. But Irritation Threshold Drift is multi-faceted: Another side is “mind over matter...."

And so, standing there in the rain, I decided I could pull out some "Zen over body" skills and not let the rain in my pancakes bother me so much. And in fact it wasn't so hard, hence my personal victory and the satisfaction. Being soaked to the bone somehow makes me feel "alive" -- as long as my toes are dry. And therein lies the rub: Some portion of Irritation Threshold Drift lies in our minds and is rewarding to conquer (like standing in the rain); some portion is very difficult to master (like wet toes, or being hungry because the soup kitchen is out of food this weekend); and some portion is in that nebulous region in the middle (like deciding when a pair of jeans is too worn for me to keep wearing).

It comes down to Irritation Threshold Drift having two components: changes in the relative cost (caused by changes in my income) and changes in my head (mind over matter). I only have limited mental control over what irritates me, and sometimes I can use money to reduce or remove an irritation. Being aware of these two factors, and their limitations, empowers me to control the drift -- to some extent.

Irritation is "life" and it's good to be alive. But I still hate hiking with wet toes.

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Everything in this essay up till now was originally written with a focus on my money management, as a context. But my wonderful friend pointed out that it actually applies to all of our irritation thresholds -- when is the noise from the kids "too much" and when can I let it go? In these areas my natural drift has been in the opposite direction: I'm more patient than I used to be. But perhaps "grumpy old men" come from the direction of that natural drift reversing at some point in life -- when it becomes essentially "free" to remove the irritation, perhaps. I'd like to see that now and take more control over my drifting, before I end up a creaky grumpy old man. I think this quote summarizes well:

"Both abundance and lack [of abundance] exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend . . . when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present — love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature, and personal pursuits that bring us [happiness]—the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience heaven on earth." --- Sarah Ban Breathnach, in John Cook, comp., The Book of Positive Quotations, 2nd ed. (2007), 342.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

You need 900 Stone to build this.

Here's an easy simple plan that works for everyone -- not only will it make you rich quickly, it'll make you happy too!

Seriously though, when it comes to Resource Management, below is what I've come to. See how it gels with you.

Let's pretend that I have a list of everything on earth that I might want to spend my money on, broken down, itemized, and prioritized. Vastly oversimplifying and leaving out lots of details, let's say it looks like this:
  1. nourish my body
  2. pay mortgage payment
  3. pay $2k into my RothIRA
  4. treat myself to a great meal once a month
  5. pay $x extra down on my mortgage
  6. save $y for a trip to Alaska (our 100th anniversary is coming up)
  7. save $z for that new car I'll need next year
  8. pay another $1k into my RothIRA
  9. save another $1k to make Alaska extra special
  10. save another $w to upgrade that car to the one I _really_ want
  11. max out my RothIRA
  12. put an extra $100k toward the mortgage
  13. ... etc.

Note that "mortgage" shows up a few times. At one priority level is the bare minimum, at another priority is the amount extra that I would need to pay in order to meet my personal goal of paying the house off on a 12 year schedule, and at a third priority is the amount I'd just love to be paying if I ever could.

Now, assuming I did that right, I can take the money I get each month and just start at the top and go down the list until I run out of money. With this list, money management is now trivial! Clearly there are only two problems with this list:
  • When I break a tooth and need a crown and get to decide between the solid gold or cheaper porcelain, which do I choose?
  • There's no way such a list could actually be created. :(

The good news is this: I have a halfway decent idea about how far down the list I'm going to get this month. Most of the list before that point I can lump into "likely to happen" and most of the list after that point I can lump into "not likely to happen." The really interesting part is the little window right around where I expect to end up. Basic Groceries -- gonna happen. I don't have to worry about exactly where it relates in relation to "pay the water bill." Extravagant Groceries -- not likely to happen. I don't have to worry about exactly where it relates to "pay extra $100k on the house." Did I say "Groceries" twice? Therein lies the cool part. Let me explain.

Using the list above, let's pretend that I expect I'll be able to get all the way down to having #8 taken care of, but only a small portion of #9. Now, all my financial decisions are trivial: at the grocery store making a purchasing decision, all I have to think about is how this decision will move that line. Wheaties or generic? -- extra-special-Alaska. That's the real question: what do I want more: Wheaties, or extra-special-Alaska. In fact, all my financial decisions are about one thing: extra-special-Alaska. If I do well enough early in the year, then I can make the rest of my financial decisions based on #10: upgraded car. If I do poorly, then I have to start eating into #8 instead.

There are five key points:
  1. The details of what's in "likely to happen" are actually important, just not on a daily scale. We need to be aware of where our money is going, and looking in there for places we can be more efficient and/or make adjustments. We need to pay attention. Also, we need to make sure that we put in this category the things necessary to meet our goals, and we need goals.
  2. The details in "not likely to happen" are also important. We need to be aware of our dreams and not forget them. When it's goal setting time, we need to look at these dreams and decide to take steps towards them.
  3. In this simplified case the window is trivial, but in real life we need to make tough prioritization decisions (more in a 529 or more in a 401k? one more dollar towards my 2 month behind mortgage or one more dollar towards my CC debt?). And sometimes there may be a fair number of things inside the window -- this is reality we live in, no scheme will get us away from the hard parts.
  4. They say "the greatest cause of unhappiness is giving up what we want most for what we want now." I'm not certain that this is the absolute "greatest," but I've become convinced that it ranks up there for sure. Wheaties or generic or extra-special-Alaska? Alaska is years off, Wheaties are right here. This is the core issue that we all face every day. Some days we do better than others; some days are rough. We're people, it's life.
  5. This actually works for most any resource management case I've come across: money, time, people, garden space, etc.

Point #4 is the biggest one, the hardest one, and the one we all have to deal with forever. It can also be a very rewarding one: giving up what I want now for what I want most gets me what I want most, and it also gives me a huge self-boost at the same time.

That said, remember the two complaints I had about the original list (above)? Note that both of these complaints are now non-issues: I never actually had to make the list (except for the portion in the little window), and when something unexpected comes up, I can still make my decisions based on their impact on the motion of that line. It's all about extra-special-Alaska baby!