Want to not want

One of the nicer lessons of the Bad Times® is that I don’t really need anything. I lived in Portugal for a month with two bags; I lived in Mexico & Costa Rica for a month with one. The only thing I felt I desperately needed that whole time was my chef’s knife.

Each time, I would fly back to my 5-bedroom, 3-bath house that I somehow pay only $1,650 a month for now, and the only real leveling up in my quality of life was that I would start cooking much better meals. At a distant second, my bed is much nicer. Even farther down the list: the chairs are more comfortable, and the remote work setup is immaculate.

I think I have psychically worked myself into a place where I really don’t need anything other than good food, warm weather, and a general sense of safety. I don’t need a lover to validate any part of myself. I don’t need this house, or most of the objects inside of the house. The house mostly exists to gather others and make me look good. More clients would be nice, I guess. If I don’t have plans with friends, I just walk around my neighborhood, look at plants, journal, and spend time with my dog.

I look at my bookshelves and think: I have most of this on my iPad.