Happy & Healthy

The household book reveals remarkable things

Pfff, vacation and still no idea where I'm going – or if I'm going at all. The prospect of sitting here at home in Amsterdam all summer doesn't really appeal to me, especially since I know that I'll end up crawling back to the computer and just saying ‘yes’ to work that I should actually be saying ‘no’ to, because: planned vacation. The problem is that there are some costs, let's say a mountain of costs, on the horizon. And that means I have a damn lousy budget for that much-needed holiday.

How is that possible? I don't earn very little, but I rarely get around to saving. So I have a miserable savings account with a number that has two zeros, sometimes three, never four. And that at a respectable adult age, something like May. While I don't spend anything. Almost nothing. Well, little.

Now I heard that people in Germany are managing reasonably well through the still ongoing crisis because they pay almost everything in cash and thus have a much better insight into their spending. Anyone who treats themselves weekly to fifty euros from the ATM and does everything from that budget sees the money flying out of their wallet and can hit the brakes if an early end to the cash flow threatens. If you're a pinning person like me, then zero – or below zero, if you've ever treated yourself to a little credit – is the end of your golden times. Boom. Just like that. Despite online banking.

Eureka: the cash book. That would make my financial wanderings clear, I thought. Read along to see what shocking discoveries I made.

I spend at least 1300 euros a year on hipster coffee.

Shoot me, I'm a coffee snob. I don't drink a drop at home, but I do have an expensive double cortado or flat white every day in a place where they have elevated coffee making to an art. I love it, I want it, I take it. Love little luxuries, that daily treat. I'm definitely not going to say goodbye to it. It's my only addiction! Can I damn well have an addiction?

”It's a joyful exaggeration that horrifically chips away at my vacation budget”

Luxury groceries cost me 3120 euros a year.

Tasty Bleu d’Auvergne and Boeren Stolwijker from the cheese shop, goose rillettes and boudin noir from the French butcher, vongole from the fishmonger, hazelnuts and candied cranberries from the nut bar, fresh hummus with coriander from the Turkish caterer: a weekly round of snacks, nibbles, and treats for the mouth costs me at least 60 euros per week. And that's in addition to the ‘regular’ groceries, which still costs about 200 euros per month (for a family, people, feeding three mouths here). Groceries+, it's a joyful exaggeration that horrifically chips away at my vacation budget.

I spend an average of only 100 euros per month on clothes!

Way too little! Who can look good with that? No wonder I think daily that I need a stupid clothing detox. This amount needs to go up, really. No more vintage finds and cheap Asos stuff for me, I will seriously look for expensive quality clothes. Fortunately, the cash book has brought this folly to light.

Oh. TNT Post earns over 20 euros a month from me.

Because of all those clothes I order online, sniff at home, try on, and then send back again because they're not nice enough. See? I'm doing my best, I'm spending money on clothes, but it comes back again. But those costs for returns are wasted money. 240 euros annually.

I buy at least a tenner's worth of nonsense per week.

Notebooks (you can never have enough), pens, stickers, keychains, cute vintage figurines, and cuddly sheep blankets for the couch – who needs them, really? But it sparks so much joy, all that junk. What does Marie Kondo know about that?

Shocking, isn't it? And even though I see room for improvement in four points – we’ll stay away from point 1 – I don't become financially wiser from it. Recognizable? And do you have any good saving tips? Please share.

Written by Kalinka Hählen