My husband is the financial genius of the family We have a nice split in responsibilities. I make the money and he makes sure that it grows, like tomato plants in the hot summer sun, instead of slipping away, like water from a leaky garden hose. This may not seem like a fair balance in responsibilities. Making money is the easy part. I have trouble saving and investing it.

So I was all ears when he said, "Want to know how we can automatically save 10-15% on our expenses?" Sure. Sign me up.

"Pay cash or write checks for everything."

Is he talking to me, the person who charges a chai at Starbuck’s, postage for a large envelope at the post office, and whatever other small necessities can be paid for by a credit card? I often go weeks with less than $10 in my wallet. Yes. He’s talking to me. He was tired of paying Visa bills for thousands of dollars each month, knowing that credit cards are too easy to use. My husband doesn’t like surprises at the end of the month.

BTW–this tactic has nothing to do with how much I’m earning. In fact, my gross revenue has increased every year since starting my business, with this year being no exception. It has everything to do with the phenomena that you spend as much as you earn.

We are trying this out for a month. I went to the dentist’s office and paid by check. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and paid by check. I paid for jewelry I bought at the Nordstrom’s sale with cash. Ouch. Yeah, that more expensive necklace wouldn’t have looked good on me anyway.

When I told my sister about paying with cash, she sneered, "Oh, I hate that. It makes me feel poor."  My sister then placed her credit card on the store counter to pay for two pairs of earrings.

This is an unintended consequence that leads to the intended result–feel poor, spend less. Men don’t get it. My husband offered to go to the bank on a regular basis, so that I would have plenty of cash. That doesn’t help the feeling of poverty. He knows that it hurts a lot more when you have to hand over the green stuff rather than swipe a card.

If I don’t get mugged (really, I’m only carrying ten bucks with me…the rest is in the car), I’ll probably be permanently scarred with the idea of handing over a Ben Franklin for a tank of gas and a few twenties for a haircut. I may even start an obsessive/compulsive relationship with my local ATM. Tell me when the month is up.