there were no sheets on the bed
the lows of voluntary homelessness
Don’t make me pay rent.
If there’s one area of life where I’ve always been wildly, almost irrationally frugal… it’s accommodation.
I don’t pay rent. I’ve been voluntarily homeless for years. I say “nomadic” because it sounds better, but really, I just float around in a way I would find very unflattering in someone I wanted to date.
Living in spare rooms, stealing beds, studios above sheds. But I love it. Well, I sort of love it. Often it makes me really frustrated because it’s not conducive to productivity and Productivity is my middle name. Some people think it’s Patricia, but no, it’s Productivity, I changed it.
I’m not effortlessly free-spirited. I’m a neurotic potato most days. But I simply cannot justify spending good money on a steady place to sleep at the hand of a landlord. It feels like defeat to me. Like paying for bottled water.
It’s weird, too, because I actually love having my own space. I love silence. I love closing a door. I love ignoring phone calls. I love waking up and not accidentally knocking someone’s electric toothbrush off the windowsill with my elbow.
And yet, I keep cramming myself into corners of other people’s homes.
I’ve always opted for the cheapest room in share houses in the past. Smaller, darker, fewer amenities, significantly cheaper? I’ll take it.
That feels like winning to me. Like a hardy hack to the system. Saved $60 on a room so I can spend $60 on crypto, a flight, or an organic bag of quinoa.
Accommodation is just something I endure to get to the good bits of life. The good bits, for me, almost always involve a risk, a reward or a fork.
This week, I took things to a whole new level. I booked the most disgusting scammy looking accommodation I could find on booking.com
Also, cheap.
Tens of reviewers calling these places disgusting and f*cking sh*t. How bad could they be?
Spoiler: I never even stayed in the first place I booked. The host sent me to a different address and I somehow ended up squatting in an empty apartment that was on the market for sale.
It was all so absurd but made for great content. This is a real life look at what happens when frugal little goblins like me refuse to just… pay for a nice place to rest their weary heads.
I don’t think frugality is about deprivation. I think it’s about knowing what you actually care about—and cutting back on the stuff you don’t. Accommodation just never made the cut for me.
But... maybe it’s time I re-evaluate that. I feel that feels creeping in on me.
At the very least I need to bring backup locks to some of the hell holes I stay in. Because there was no lock on the door to the outside.
Watch the chaos here:
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Over and out chicos.
PLEASE EXCUSE TYPOS.
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