For a few years now, I’ve been very concerned with “simplifying.” At the same time, as a recent grad, I’ve been a little obsessive about not spending money. Sometimes the two ideologies go great together. Other times it’s a riot in my brain.

In my most recent post I talked about how you shouldn’t start on a minimalist or simple living journey by throwing away a ton of shit, and this goes doubly if part of your minimalistic goals is to limit spending. Throwing stuff out is just about the worst thing you can do in that case.

Living Space

The first real step I took in my journey was to move to the new apartment I needed. When I moved to my very first all-my-own apartment, I had this idea in my head that I should move to the apartment I could grow into. The result, as you could probably expect, was an apartment that was too big for me, too expensive, and ultimately, entirely unnecessary.

So the next year, I picked an apartment I could shrink into. All my stuff technically fit, but it was tight. Over time I sold off furniture, got rid of 10-year-old post it notes and index cards, and now I find myself in a very comfortable one-ish bedroom with plenty of sunlight, enough space for my yoga practice, and within a 30-minute commute to work.

People get so worked up about what kind of living space they want compared to what they can afford. The focus should be more on what you need, than what you can grow into. Take a moment, the next time you’re apartment shopping, to really consider the kind of living space you need. Personally, I didn’t need much space, but I did need sunlight, tons of sunlight. But in terms of space… I’m a small person, and I like my space to match.

Food

It took me a good few years to really understand what it meant to “cook.” My first dish was spaghetti, then a few kinds of chicken over rice. Gradually I expanded from there.

The problem with cooking for yourself is that it never tastes quite like your favorite food truck, does it?

It took me over two years to figure out why I wasn’t in love with my rice. Short story shorter, I needed to add a dab of vegetable oil, turmeric, and oregano (mmm). But because I was too lazy to experiment and find a way to make my own food taste good, I ended up with half eaten containers of rice in my fridge while I hunted down some tasty dishes from the Thai restaurant down the street.

If you’re a city dweller like I am, a good two-meal bin (I’m being generous here) of Thai food costs about $12, or $6 per meal. That same meal cooked at home would cost you under $2. In the world of Food Finance, if you do that four times a week, you come out to about $64 a month. If you like eating the whole bin of Thai food, that’s $128. Just for dinner.

Keep in mind that that just covers four meals a week, and if you’re like me, you likely eat at least 21, if not more like 35 (I’m a grazer). If you literally do not eat at home, there’s a chance you could be spending anywhere from $84 for 21 small meals per week ($336 per month) to $140 per week ($560 per month).

If that doesn’t sound remotely possible, yet you have no more than a Brita pitcher in your fridge, I strongly suggest you audit your food spending at the end of this month. No cheating by paying cash.

Find some simple recipes that you really enjoy and that $560 a month will be no more than a passing laugh. Teriyaki chicken over rice is one of the simplest meals you can make. Same for boiled eggs (my most recent accomplishment), buttered noodles, and if you’re feeling daring, try making some bacon pinto beans.

And about those beans… condensed bean and bacon soup is a full dollar. You know what else is a dollar? A pound of dried beans. Do you know how much food that is, cooked? About three pounds or six servings. You can make a better tasting, healthier version of the same thing for about a third of the price. Winner winner chicken dinner.

Re-Evaluating Necessities

I have a column in my monthly budget sheets dedicated to “Otherwise Necessary.” It has no formal definition, but it’s meant for stuff like toilet paper or batteries; things that don’t fit nicely into my grocery or bills columns. But without that formal definition, it’s really easy to start letting some things slide in there.

For example, clothing has a dedicated column, as does “fun stuff,” which has a monthly cap, business expenses, and gifts. At one point clothing had started creeping into my “Otherwise Necessary.” That was a no no, and I had to re-evaluate what I really needed.

I took stock of what I actually need in my day to day life, and realized I’m much happier with my anti-consumerist attitudes, for the few perks that they do have are unexpected and sometimes give me the warm fuzzies, such as my trash bag only being half full by the end of the week, my shoes always having a place to go home to, and a closet that never jumps out at me when I open the door. Little things that I never noticed before.

Becoming Simple

So, rather than forcing yourself to not spend on this and that, take a moment to come back to your necessities. You need food and water and a place to live, but this is your chance to dial it back a bit and experiment. Try making something new with some exciting new spices. Dip your bananas in peanut butter and run.

Take stock of what you really need, and when you feel a spend frenzy coming on, use it on real necessities, like toilet paper and rice. Leave the potato chips and ball gowns at the counter.