2024 Post |2023 Post | 2022 Post | 2021 Post | 2020 Post | 2019 Post
This marks the seventh year of my financial and life tracking. I don’t expect many people to care about reviewing financial numbers like this—doing so requires discipline, and most people would rather not look too closely at their own reality.
For me, though, this isn’t about numbers. It’s a snapshot of my life over time. Some people look back at photos and say, “Wow, look at me then.” I look back at these years and say, “That’s how I understood surviving life financially at the time.”
Going back and reading my past entries has surprised me—I’ve even impressed myself. Each year, I like to think I’m a little wiser than the year before.
So, here we go again. This will be the first year it’s not only me speaking, the AI enhances my voice…or does it? I think so.
The #’s
Breakfast 2019 – $1,653 | 2020 – $1,508 | 2021 – $1,961 | 2022 – $2,110 | 2023 – $2,584 | 2024 – $2,500 | 2025 – $2,551
Lunch 2019 – $2,575 | 2020 – $2,100 | 2021 – $2,779 | 2022 – $3,630 | 2023 – $3,517 | 2024 – $3,254| 2025 – $3,402
Dinner 2019 – $2,619 | 2020 – $1,047 | 2021 – $1,568 | 2022 – $2,070 | 2023 – $4,417 | 2024 – $3,877| 2025 – $3,782
The move to Newtown hasn’t changed these numbers much, though I do have a regular rotation of places I eat out now. What stands out is the consistency—my routines are hard to break, and that shows clearly year after year.
I eat three meals a day, snack in moderation, and live relatively healthy (alcohol aside). At one point this year I bought a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, and it lasted an entire month. There are moments when I could easily demolish a whole bag of chips—and I simply don’t.
It’s hard not to notice how much personal discipline shows up in small, unremarkable choices. You can say a lot about a society by the health of its people, and in that respect, America still has work to do.
Alcohol 2019 – $8,975 | 2020 – $4,280 | 2021 – $6,673 | 2022 – $8,605 | 2023 – $9,671 | 2024 – $9,484| 2025 – $11,593
I spent about $3,000 at North Bowl this year. That includes tips and drinks—but regardless of how you slice it, it’s a big number. The rest shows up in alcohol bought on golf courses and moments where I simply didn’t care what it cost to have a good time.
I used to look at a number like that and flinch. Now, I see it differently—not as waste, but as money circulating to the people working in the industry. Call it indulgence if you want; I think of it as a voluntary redistribution in exchange for enjoyment.
Drinks 2019 – 1,680 | 2020 – 1,090 | 2021 – 1,306 | 2022 – 1,376 | 2023 – 1,287 | 2024 – 1,330| 2025 – 1,356
I didn’t drink on 148 days this year. Interestingly, the total number of drinks lines up closely with most other years—except whatever the hell was going on in 2019.
It’s also worth noting that the vast majority of these drinks are light beers. The IPA phase is largely behind me. That’s not to say I won’t indulge now and then, but this number isn’t nearly as alarming (in my mind).
Roughly 40 times a year, I’m involved in some kind of golf event, and I average about six beers on the course. I’m not claiming that’s good behavior—but it’s also not me sitting on the couch crushing PBRs and taking a shot every time I have an existential crisis.
Subscriptions 2019 – $39,970 | 2020 – $42,105 | 2021 – $38,457 | 2022 – $39,906 | 2023 – $39,583 | 2024 – $66,312| 2025 – $66,652
This category covers the basics: Comcast, Verizon, Spotify, Sirius, Netflix, gas, water, electric, mortgage/rent, Amazon Prime, YouTube, and the gym. If I had only one residence, this number would drop by roughly $25K immediately.
I think of this as my true baseline—the minimum cost required to simply exist and function. That number will rise soon, since I plan to buy a new car, and it’ll increase by whatever “normal” car prices are these days.
Things 2019 – $22,403 | 2020 – $34,095 | 2021 – $30,989 – 2022 – $36,059 | 2023 – $33,224 | 2024 – $63,307| 2025 – $76,415
I resurfaced my patio and got my bathroom re-modeled which was a major chunk of this. Other than that, I mainly spend my money on clothes, golf clubs, and golf trips. Other expenses included a Euro trip to Oktoberfest & Ibiza, a new laptop, some furniture, and I paid for an upcoming cruise.
Daily Fantasy Sports 2019 $-1,650 | 2020 – $-1,444 | 2021 -$1,540 | 2022 – $970 | 2023 – $-1,346 | 2024 – $-1,846| 2025 – $3,041
I was telling Adam that Drew Dinkmeyer entered roughly 4,000 contests in a single week. By comparison, I play about 10 a week during football season, all single-entry. When you stack those numbers next to each other, my chances of ever binking one are basically microscopic.
Still, I enjoy the process—the small thrill of putting together what feels like a good lineup, even though it rarely, if ever, actually works out. The reality is there are professionals out there who are far better than me and who dedicate exponentially more time to it. I’m aware of that gap, and I’m comfortable with it.
Sports Betting 2019 $-681 | 2020 – $-1,258 | 2021 -$3,059 | 2022 $-899 | 2023 – $-10,052 | 2024 – $-978| 2025 – $-1,075
Only $53K wagered this year, which is about $3K less than last year. There isn’t much to say beyond that. Outside of the 2023 disaster, I’m a slightly negative-EV gambler overall. If I strip out golf betting entirely, I’m actually positive.
I’ve unsubscribed from Bradley Todd and haven’t been betting golf heavily for a while now. Sure, it would be nice to be net positive, but it’s not something I lose sleep over—or consider a meaningful concern in my life.
Miles 2019 – 896 | 2020 – 863.5 | 2021 – 746 | 2022 – 864 | 2023 – 894 | 2024 – 897| 2025 – 790
I only ran one trail race this year, but it went well. Since October, my knee has been an issue and cut into my mileage. Another factor is that I now run at a 4% incline on the treadmill—something I definitely wasn’t doing back in 2019. So even if the raw mileage is a bit lower, this doesn’t feel like a down year by any means.
I’m also confident I logged more elliptical work than in past years, and I expect that trend to continue. I’m more cautious than ever about getting hurt, which makes long runs increasingly rare. Re-reading past years, the most consistent theme of my running “career” is injury. At this point, preservation feels more important than pushing volume.
That AI fucker put career in parentheses.
Golf Handicap | 2020 – 15.5 | 2021 – 13.2 | 2022 – 12.1 | 2023 – 12.8 | 2024 – 12.9| 2025 – 10.5
I had a solid season. I plan on joining Jericho this year—assuming I can get in—and getting back to a proper GHIN number. Not that 18Birdies is inaccurate, but GHIN is simply the better standard.
A few highlights: an 80 at the Ocean Course in Kiawah and a 78 at Downingtown from the blues. I also had at least a half dozen other rounds in the low 80s, and that’s with (almost) never taking gimmes or bending the rules.
My putting is atrocious, and I never practice it. My sand game could also use work. That said, I’ve done a much better job staying out of OB, and ball striking isn’t an issue. Adding a bit more loft on chips would be another way to shave strokes—though I did manage to break my sand wedge this year while trying exactly that.
A Reflective State
My net worth in 2019 was $175K. This year, I spent roughly that amount. That contrast is hard to fully explain after seven years of writing these posts, but I can point precisely to one life-altering opportunity—right place, right time.
Was I the same person in 2019 as I am now? Did that guy become me, or was I always this person waiting for the moment? Am I actually different now?
One thing is different: I no longer question myself. I don’t need validation to tell me whether I’m right or wrong. My moral compass has carried me to a place of relative success, and I trust it completely.
Of course, there’s always the familiar critique: You’re a white man born in America. Statistically, sure—globally that’s about a 0.75% probability. People treat that as the entire explanation. You had a fifth-generation family business. Yes—and it would not exist today without the work my family and I put into keeping it alive. You have no diseases or disabilities. Also true. You got lucky. Maybe.
But luck isn’t exercising 300 days a year. Luck isn’t tracking data relentlessly for years until you hit your goals. Luck isn’t holding yourself fully accountable because there’s no one else to blame for the parts of your life you don’t like.
I believe I would make the most of opportunity anywhere in the world because I am… me. No one can prove that, and it’s pointless to speculate. All anyone can do is maximize the short time here and leave things better than you found them. I believe my value system does that.
I want to elevate people who make the world better. I don’t have solutions for people who don’t. I’ve jokingly recommended the catapult in past posts, but philosophically, I do believe there is good and bad. The world has made that distinction very clear to me. I believe I’m where I am because I consistently push toward that difference. I may be a loner in the process, but I’m not confused about what I see.
With age has come clarity. When I watch European cultures eroded by misguided humanitarianism driven by ignorant politicians, I understand what’s wrong. I see the same forces attempting to do it in the United States. Many people refuse to look. People like me don’t. Maybe my next move is trying to change that.
Last year—or the year before—I said I wanted to travel to places I haven’t been. I still haven’t done it. Whether I make good on this next intention remains to be seen.
Recent Comments