Living with little more than a bed and a few clothes puts materialism in a unique persepctive. Actually, saying “little more than a bed…” is a bit of compositional allegory, there really is little more than a bed in here. In fact, I can list pretty much everything without having to think too hard:
.: bed (and associated bedding)
.: an Eames rocker
.:half of my clothes
.: this laptop
.: 3 books, 2 magazines, and a stack of mail
.: a basketball
.: essential toiletries
.: essential bathroom stuff (shower curtain, soap, towels, and the like)
.: 6 plates, 12 glasses, one small frying pan
And that’s what I’ve been using to keep up my identity for the last couple of weeks, with at least another two into the future before my original place is repaired.
People live daily with much less. I know this. It still feels like I’m surviving at least mild hardships, though. I’ve also learned, to my great surprise, that I don’t fall to pieces in the face of really just a lot of crap hitting a lot of fans. Good to know that I can keep my head, I suppose.
One thing about living at such a low capacity: everything feels like it’s on hold. Granted, I’m going out more often than I normally would… probably because I don’t have much at home to hold my attention, but the bigger things seem like they’re frozen in place until I get everything back to normal. I can’t go on any extended vacations, for instance (not that I was planning to).
>Also, the whole dance of seduction becomes that much more difficult. At least in a normal situation you can bring someone over with at least the pretense of watching a movie or something. Right now, guests are greeted with a dark cavern of a living room, our voices and steps echoing off the bare hardwood. You quickly transition to the only pool of light available, shining from my bedroom. Once there, you get to decide between standing awkwardly, sitting in an admittedly uncomfortable but beautiful chair, or crashing on the bed. It’s just a bit too on point, you know?
I’m making it work, though.