Since I moved out last month I’ve discovered something extraordinary: between paying rent and cooking my own meals, I don’t want anything anymore. Occasionally I still have the urge to buy something, though last time that happened I bought frames from The Picture People because we were so far from our sales plan. I’m also much more content to sit and watch television, knowing how much I pay for cable, and that sitting on the couch is the best way to socialize with my house-mates. Work has become even more important, not necessarily for the hours, but because I can use their water, their microwave (especially before we had one in the house), and their heat.
I don’t think of it as being selfish, just economical. But the scariest part of all is that I just don’t… want anything. The Christmas gift cards/cash I received were merged with Sarah’s to buy things for the house (though that did include the complete Flying Circus) and I’m content to spend my days off organizing and cleaning what we have. Wow.