Money and time have an interesting relationship. In the present, your budget and your calendar reveal whether your stated and lived values align. While time and money are both essential resources, they differ in one key way: we can compound money, but our time is finite.
Because of this distinction, most of us have more days than dollars when we’re young, and—provided we save and invest wisely—more wealth than weeks as we age. One of the most important skills needed to optimize our finances is the ability to discern the tipping point, that moment when our time has become more valuable and deserves to be prioritized over additional accumulation.
Those who recognize this shift often begin buying back their time in various ways. One is by outsourcing tasks that are time-consuming or unfulfilling. For some, this may be yard work or cleaning, while others subscribe to a meal kit service or hire a professional to do their taxes. The idea is to eliminate as many of the “shoulds” and “musts” as possible, to pave the way for more of what you want to do—the things that feed, energize, and inspire you.
Cognitive Serenity
In my own life, this has meant ruthlessly identifying opportunities to use my money to refund my schedule. I’ve moved away from the pressure of curated “looks” and toward an internal benchmark of comfort over external signals of status. My daily “uniform” consists of high-quality, comfortable gear—brands like Vuori or CALIA—regardless of whether I’m presenting, visiting friends and family, or working from home.
Brené Brown once shared a lovely story about feeling self-conscious at a C-Suite event in her comfy sweater and clogs while everyone else was in an expensive suit. That anxiety instantly evaporated when she saw Elizabeth Gilbert across the room wearing almost the exact same thing. There’s a specific kind of confidence that comes from realizing you don’t have to dress the part to be the part.
I’ve “Flintstone wardrobed” away the daily decision fatigue of what to wear. This was about a redirection of effort, rather than a lack of it. By design, my “black-tie event” leggings and “casual Friday” leggings are one and the same. By choosing a high-quality, consistent wardrobe, I’ve reclaimed the mental bandwidth typically wasted on debating the tenth outfit option in front of the mirror. It’s the practical application of making one decision that eliminates tons of others—a strategic narrowing of focus that protects my cognitive energy for the work that actually requires it. I still fix my hair in the mirror, of course, but the selection process is over before I even walk into the closet. It’s my daily declaration of autonomy: I dress for my life’s requirements, not the world’s expectations.
The Logistics of Presence
I love cooking when I have all the time in the world, but when I’m rushed, the magic rapidly evaporates and it becomes pure drudgery. There is a vast difference between the alchemy of crafting a meal and the 5:00 PM “what’s for dinner” panic. To protect cooking as a creative act, I’ve started outsourcing the logistics to a “fire and forget” meal prep system involving dual slow cookers, a rice cooker, and an air fryer.
This setup allows me to stay immersed in writing—another creative endeavor—without the risk of burning down the house or getting caught in the flow only to realize I’ve completely missed the window to start dinner. By automating the functional side of meal prep, I ensure my family is nourished without the constant struggle of having more to do than time allows. It spares my mental reserves and, consequently, protects my highest priorities.
Buying time in this way keeps the hurried feelings at bay. That shift is vital because being “rushed” is a relentless thief of calm, which drains the catalysts for pleasure in nearly every area—from fitness and cooking to reading or having a deep conversation. By reclaiming that space, I ensure that when I have the time, I can love being the chef—experimenting with new recipes and leaning into the rhythm and ritual of the process. I can cook because I have the room to enjoy it, not because I’m racing against the clock.
The Maintenance-Staging Distinction
Years ago, I owned and managed a luxury mountain Airbnb. It was a role that taught me the vital difference between maintenance and staging. While I had a crew to handle the sweeping and mopping (tasks most anyone could do), I focused my energy on the finishing touches. I was the one rolling the hot-tub towels just right, sourcing local gifts, and ensuring the environment felt as much like an experience as a cozy home.
I’ve recently applied that same logic to my own house by hiring cleaners to come monthly. This isn’t about paying someone else to do my work so I can be lazy or leisurely. It’s the practical application of an idea I once heard: “It’s time to do what you do best, and let your Doer do the rest.” It’s the same hierarchy of labor I practiced when I worked in academia. My graduate students handled foundational tasks that were within their reach, which freed me to focus on work at the very top of my ability and priority list.
When someone else handles the basics, like mopping, it gives me the freedom to reorganize a closet or “Feng Shui” a room, making it more accommodating to the lifestyle we want. It allows me to move from being the person who just keeps the house “level” to the person who curates an environment that actually supports our goals. It’s about a specific kind of financial discernment—developing the wisdom to realize that to protect our highest-value pursuits, we must ruthlessly delegate as many functional tasks as we can. Whether it’s the mopping, the logistics, or the technical execution, we’re trading the tasks that anyone can do for the time to do what only we can do. This is essentially a life-design variation of the Eisenhower Matrix: identifying which tasks are merely “maintenance” to be delegated, and which represent high-value “staging” actions that require my specific voice and vision to be successful.
The Ultimate Purchase
Finally, I applied this buy-back logic to my professional presence when I entered into a bartering arrangement where I provided coaching in exchange for the creation of reels for my children’s picture book Instagram. Much like my relationship with cooking, I don’t hate the task—I actually enjoy the design side of it. But when the technical execution became one more thing “rushed” onto an already full plate, it lost its spark. At some point, I realized protecting my top priority meant acknowledging that my highest value lies in the voice and the vision of my writing.
Arguably the best thing money can buy, in the grand scheme of things, is self-direction. On a small scale, perhaps this manifests as the ability to align your hours with your true priorities and values on the job. Across a lifetime, it provides the freedom to walk away from the “must-dos” and step into a life designed entirely by your own hand.
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What to Read Next
Ready for more inspiration, start here:
How to Build a Timeless Capsule Wardrobe (On a Budget)
The Mirror Effect: Why Your Budget and Your Calendar Tell the Same Story
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