People who no longer buy these 8 items save thousands every year

I spent a decade as a financial analyst watching budgets balloon over tiny, everyday choices.

It wasn’t the big, dramatic purchases that did the most damage—it was the drip, drip, drip of small buys that quietly siphoned cash off the table.

If you’ve ever ended the month wondering, “Where did it all go?” this one’s for you.

Below are eight everyday items I stopped buying (or drastically reduced), and the realistic, back-of-the-envelope math for how much the average person can save in a year. Will your exact numbers differ? Of course.

But the principle holds: trim here, swap there, and you’re suddenly keeping thousands.

Let’s dive in.

1. Bottled water

Real talk: I used to grab a bottle on the way to my trail runs “just this once.” Then I added it up.

If you buy one $1.50 bottle a day, that’s $1.50 × 365 = $547.50 a year. A good home filter might run about $60 per year (replacement cartridges), and a sturdy reusable bottle is a one-time $20–$30. Net it out and you’re still saving roughly $488 in year one—and more after.

Bonus wins: less plastic and fewer “oops, I forgot my water” convenience-store trips that lead to impulse snacks.

Micro-habit: put a clean bottle by the door every night. In the morning, you’re more likely to fill and go.

2. Takeout coffee

I love a cozy café as much as anyone, but five $4 coffees a week adds up: $4 × 260 workdays ≈ $1,040 per year.

Brew at home for about $0.50 a cup (beans, water, electricity) and you’re spending roughly $130 for those same 260 cups. That’s a $910 gap—almost a plane ticket.

Will I still treat myself? Absolutely. But turning a daily habit into a once-or-twice-a-week ritual kept the delight and dropped the drain.

As Benjamin Franklin warned, “Beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship.”

Founders Online: Poor Richard’s Almanack

3. Extended warranties and device insurance

This one used to be my Achilles’ heel. You’re at checkout with a shiny gadget and the offer pops up: “Add protection for just $15/month!” Feels prudent, right?

But insurance on a $900 phone at $15/month is $180 per year. Two devices in the household? $360. Most people don’t file claims every year, and even when they do, deductibles and exclusions can dull the value.

I switched to a “self-insurance” strategy: each month I move the amount I would’ve paid for extended coverage into a separate tech-repair sinking fund. If something breaks, I pay from that pot. If nothing breaks—guess what—I keep the money.

4. Cable TV bundles

Cable crept up on me. Between “introductory pricing,” equipment fees, and channels I never watched, I was paying about $120/month. That’s $1,440/year for background noise.

I cut the cord and kept just high-speed internet (which I needed anyway).

One $15 streaming service for specific shows covers my needs. Savings? If your cable TV portion was about $80/month and your streamer is $15, that’s $65/month back in your pocket, or $780/year.

Pro tip: rotate subscriptions. Watch what you want on one app for a month, cancel, then switch to the next. You’ll still see everything—just not all at once.

5. Brand-name cleaners (and a dozen “specialty” versions)

Under my sink used to look like a cleaning supply superstore: glass cleaner, bathroom cleaner, shower foam, stainless-steel spray, floor spray…you get the idea. At an easy $12/month total, that’s $144/year.

Now I make a simple all-purpose cleaner (water + white vinegar + a few drops of dish soap), keep a baking soda shaker for scrubby jobs, and buy an eco-friendly concentrate for times I want suds without the DIY.

My annual spend dropped to about $20–$30. Savings: roughly $110–$124.

Do whatever fits your preferences, but don’t pay for ten labels when two will do the job.

6. Fast-fashion “hauls”

“Just a quick look” turned into a cart of trendy steals I wore twice. Sound familiar?

If you impulse-shop $50/month, that’s $600/year. I shifted to a simple capsule: quality basics, mostly secondhand or on steep sale, plus a strict “one-in, one-out” rule. I also set two “no-buy” months per year to reset.

Result: I spend closer to $200–$250 a year on clothes, saving $350–$400—and getting dressed is easier.

Question to ask before buying: Will I wear this 20+ times? If the answer’s no, it’s probably a pass.

7. Single-use paper goods (paper towels, napkins, and disposable kitchenware)

I cook a lot—hello, farmers’ market veggies—so I used to blast through paper towels and napkins. One roll a week at $1.50 is about $78/year.

Add napkins and the occasional disposable plates/cutlery for gatherings and you can easily top $200/year.

I swapped to a dozen flour-sack towels, a stack of cloth napkins, and a small wash load twice a week.

The upfront cost paid for itself in months, and now disposables are for true emergencies. Savings: ~$150–$200 a year, plus less trash. (Cloth also makes wiping counters weirdly satisfying.)

8. Unused memberships and “small” subscriptions

This one stings because it’s invisible. A $30/month gym you don’t use is $360/year. Add three $10 app subscriptions you forgot about and you’re at $360 more.

That’s $720—without even touching the “free trials” that auto-renew.

I do a quarterly subscription audit: print the bank statement, circle anything recurring, and ask, “Did I use this enough to justify the cost?” If not, cancel.

For fitness, I shifted to bodyweight routines, park runs, and a pair of adjustable dumbbells I found secondhand—no ongoing fee.

As James Clear likes to say, “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.” Build a cancellation system and you’ll keep more of your money—every month.

How the savings add up (conservatively)

Let’s tally the example numbers:

• Bottled water: ≈ $488

• Takeout coffee: ≈ $910

• Extended warranties/phone insurance: ≈ $360

• Cable TV bundle swap: ≈ $780

• Cleaner simplification: ≈ $110–$124

• Fast-fashion cutback: ≈ $350–$400

• Paper goods reduction: ≈ $150–$200

• Unused memberships & apps: ≈ $720

Total: ≈ $3,900–$4,000+ a year.

Even if your situation differs—maybe you keep cable but crack down on subscriptions, or you adore your café but ditch bottled water—the direction is clear. You don’t have to do all eight to feel a real difference.

A few mindset shifts that make this easy

• Default to reusables. If there’s a “use once, toss” version and a “buy once, use forever-ish” version, I try the latter first.

• Delay purchases 48 hours. Most “needs” evaporate after two sleeps. If it still matters, buy with confidence.

• Pre-decide your swaps. “I make coffee at home Monday–Friday.” “I only say yes to subscriptions I can name and use weekly.” Clarity beats willpower.

• Self-insure the small stuff. Extended warranties and accidental-damage plans prey on anxiety. A dedicated savings bucket gives you both protection and flexibility.

• Make it fun. I keep a “savings scoreboard” in my notes app. Every time I opt for the cheaper, smarter choice, I log the amount. Watching the number climb is its own reward.

Final thought

None of this is about deprivation. It’s about alignment—letting your everyday choices reflect what you actually value.

For me, that’s time outside, good food, and community. When I stopped buying things that didn’t serve those values, I didn’t feel restricted; I felt lighter.

Try one or two swaps this week. Track the savings. And remember: the quiet, boring decisions you make on Tuesday afternoons are the ones that change your financial life.

Because, as the old quip goes, small leaks sink great ships. Plug a few, and suddenly you’re sailing.