Downsizing Is Not Sexy

I totally bought into downsizing my life. I wanted to learn how to live within my means, get out of debt and get off the hamster wheel of the working stiff.

And my partner agreed. So we began to make a lot of changes. We moved into my studio and rented out our house. We cut up credit cards and stopped going out to eat. And it started to work. We were paying down debt, making our bill payments on time and even starting to plan our first month long vacation-like-thing.

And then my partner got laid off.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad we did what we did. Him getting laid off would have ROYALLY sucked if we hadn’t made all these changes.

But our life is anything but tidy, organized and full of joy.

If you are listening to the “experts” talk about how sexy and amazing their lives are after downsizing, I’m here to tell you that this is bullshit. Life is messy and it will take a ton of hard work, endless concessions and even new friends.

Sure, it has its advantages, but you can’t show up at the bar after work anymore. Nights out on the town happen at most once a month and are now at places where the food is cheap and salmonella rampant. And even if you do manage to get a friend to come over and visit you in your new 400 sq. ft. apartment, you won’t have anywhere for them to stand, let alone sit down.

And let’s talk about the heat.

Two days ago, a heat wave hit Southern Ontario with temperatures well over 34 degrees C (43 with humidity.) For those Fahrenheit fools out there, this means it is hot enough to melt cars left out in the sun.

Bring your cars inside, fools!

We’ve spent the past three days living out of our tiny, pink bedroom. The $100 air conditioner in a losing battle to cool down the 100 sq. ft. room. Its death rattle drowning out anything we attempt to watch or listen to. Last night we sat in bed (with the dog) and ate pizza out of the delivery box.

I should point out that pizza was not in our budget. I blame heat stroke and those damn Domino’s coupons.

It was the coupon. Really. encyclopizzeria.com

This morning, I emerged from the room long enough to make coffee and take a cold shower. I noticed that my partner was valiantly attempting to use his iMac in the other room. I suppose you could say that we have four rooms: the bedroom, the kitchenette, the bathroomette and the sauna, otherwise known as the work/storage room with the giant greenhouse window.

My partner was perched, squatting and naked on his office chair, attempting to answer email while trying to not stick to the upholstery.

This left the dog and me to claim the bedroom, where I sat as I typed these words, sipping lukewarm coffee and praying for the heatwave to break so I could one day get back to editing photos in the sauna.

Or consider cooking again.