The 3300


I make a lot of money right now. A lot to me, at least. I grew up in rented houses, mobile homes, a trailer in an orange grove, and less-than-comfortable impromptu property or house-sharing situations. I often got my clothes from Goodwill–before it was fashionable.

The question (which has quickly become the problem) is, How do we manage the extra? I was concerned, given my inexperience, that we weren’t going to do a good job of managing our wealth would fuck it up.

We did. This April we owed 12 grand in taxes.

And I saw this coming, but I seriously couldn’t help myself. There were so many things I/we needed. Plus I was afraid of how stupid I would appear (and feel!) when I went to an accountant and explained that I had managed not to manage my money in any way for almost a year. I just earned it and spent it. At least I was good at THOSE things.

Part of this also has to do with an innate resistance to the bourgeois lifestyle I’m inexorably becoming part of. I grew up with a definite dislike for those who needed accountants and a discomfort with terms like tax shelters or annuities. Growing up “working poor” meant growing up justifying the lifestyle of the “working poor;” it also meant a certain bitterness towards those who had so much money that they needed to hide the excess. Seriously, that made me mad. It still does. Which is why I struggle so much with how to handle my money.

After the catastrophic 12k decompression I’ve [slightly] reformed, meaning that I’ve talked to Denette and we’ve set an allowance:

$3,300 per month. This is for all the day-to-day expenses like food, rent, utilities, gas, coffee (oh yes, definitely an allowance item!), etc. And I’ve made an appointment with a CPA. I’ll update you soon on the status of my devolution into wealth and privilege.


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