What Are You Saving For?

Anything? Everything?

In a recent conversation with a friend who graciously bears the brunt of my financial freak outs, I had a revelation: the way I think about saving money might be a lie.

“What’s really the point of a savings account” he asked me. “At our income levels, it’s really just a way of organizing money.”

“Disaster lurks around every corner,” I replied. “Everyone needs a savings account! We should all have savings account.”

“We’re not really benefitting from the APR, anyway,” he said. “Besides, if the money’s in your checking account, you don’t have to touch it.”

To be fair, he’s correct. My dicey method of savings is nothing more than an intricately planned filing system, one that makes sense for me in my head and is likely confusing for anyone else. What I commonly refer to as my savings account is really just a second checking account that holds all the money for my taxes plus a little extra. I access that money infrequently but I still use it. I’ve trained myself to be content with the amount of money I have in my main checking account and have mostly stopped accessing it. But, the thought of having all the money that’s in that account in my checking account terrifies me beyond belief.

I’m disciplined enough to not look at the money and blow it on something impractical like weekly visits to the very nice spa I went to on my birthday where I floated in a tub of salt water in the semi-dark and submerged my body in various steaming whirlpools. The threat of it lurking in my bank account and tempting me is the same reason I walk to a bank every month and get a cashier’s check for my rent. Working my way around a large chunk of money that I should not touch requires too much arithmetic and ratchets up the anxiety. I know myself — my system works for me. But what am I really saving for?

I’m saving for a trip to Taiwan in the fall with my sisters where we will eat a lot of food and bicker loudly in and around various national monuments; the chance at living alone in a semi-squalid studio apartment that will fit my books and the very ugly but comfortable chair in my room; a vacation I take alone to somewhere warm with no obligations to anyone but myself; the inevitability that I will owe more money to the IRS; the possibility that my computer dies; a broken limb or sprained ankle; a month or two of solid unemployment should all my freelance gigs dry up and I decide to relax and not work as if my life depended on it for a minute; a nice rug; a decent TV stand; an acceptable storage solution for all my yarn; a “rainy day.”

That’s just off the top of my head; nothing is earmarked and nothing is planned. What are you saving for? What’s the point?

Support The Billfold

The Billfold continues to exist thanks to support from our readers. Help us continue to do our work by making a monthly pledge on Patreon or a one-time-only contribution through PayPal.