I need to save money since I'm actively trying to get fired. No I'm not

Why Does Furious M Have a Salaried Job and Still Act as if Destitute?

My net pay is $2,250 dollars per month. That is the amount of money injected into my bank account on a monthly basis. On a scale of how much money most established professionals make this is chump change, but to me it seems incomprehensibly vast. Notice that the yearly total there is $27,000! Twenty seven thousand dollars of immediate take-home pay!

The puzzling aspect is how I live and act as if on the verge of homelessness. I sleep on the floor in a one-room basement apartment. It has a fridge to complement a tiny little stove and a tiny little sink. Everything I cook is out of my cast iron skillet and copper pot, and I eat all my meals out of a two-person camp-cutlery set. It includes two plates, two bowls, two little cups--all markup red plastic—two knives, two forks, and two spoons--all dull white plastic. I have an three pound can of MJB "Premium Coffee" in my fridge that I've been working through since November: I brew coffee in the morning by heating water in the copper pot and pouring it through an individual sized cone and filter. Sometimes I add a little bit of Swiss Miss to make a mocha if I'm feeling extravagant.

To get to work I walk 25 minutes to the Lloyd Center MAX station—the edge of the "Free Rail Zone"--and ride downtown without needing to buy a Tri-Met pass. My lunch at work involves a rotating schedule of three basic items: PB&J sandwiches, Cup O' Noodles, and dried fruit. Similarly, my after work drink of choice involves a rotating schedule of three basic items: Oly/Rainier/Hamm's, Hurricane, and Jim Beam.

When not forced to dress up for work (dressing up meaning Doc Martens, jeans, and a button up shirt) I wear hiking boots, Carhartt pants, malt liquor tee shirts, flannel overshirts, and a John Deere baseball cap.

I described my attempt to upgrade my sleeping quarters to my office-mate today.

"So I was trying to think, what would be more luxurious than a Therma-Rest on the floor? Why, two Therma-Rests on the floor! I could put them side by side and it would be like queen sized Therma-Rest. I've been doing this the past couple weeks, but you tend to gravitate towards the middle and push the pads away--I keep waking up on the floor in between the two camping pads.”

"Dude I'm going to stop you right there. You're depressing me."

What is remarkable about this is that my poverty-stricken lifestyle is not premeditated at all. I never have the goal in mind to save money, be cheap, or look cheap as some sort of bizarre statement. It just happens. I think I'm too aware of how easy my life is: it's like I'm so painfully conscious of how fortunate I am to not be starving, terminally ill, or dead, that I'm grateful to have MJB "Premium Coffee" and PBJ sandwiches. Anything more seems superfluous and unnecessary.

Post-script: this afternoon I pulled a can of pears out of my backpack, then my flimsy little $3 can opener. I sheepishly explained, "well the ones with the pull-tab top are like 30 cents more expensive," to which my office mate replied, "I do not approve of what you are doing."