I once rented a storage unit that someone had been living in. A storage unit. As in, a cement-floored, steel box that people rent to put their meaningless shit in. This person was extreme, because they were doing this in one of the coldest places in the country. They lived without plumbing and likely without heat. If they tried to heat the place, they would have been better off just renting because their fuel costs would have been more than an apartment for about nine months a year.
The financial floor I have discovered is the absolute minimum price of an existence in a place, just shy of homelessness. In this system, homelessness actually relies on stealing that space, rather than being part of the system.
When calculating one's living expenses, everything has to be included. Rent, storage units, utilities, car insurance, car, and gasoline. Utilities are a function of the quality of the dwelling and one's consistency of climate. A vehicle becomes a core living expense if the vehicle is necessary for getting to work every day. Renting a storage unit is just another part of rent; whether you live with your stuff or away from it.
But at the heart of this calculation, the price of a dwelling versus the price of an alternative living situation end up revealing the floor in the cost of living --- the absolute minimum one can pay to live in a place without going into the basement. The basement is the space that shall not be acknowledged or spoken of, and some even work feverishly to eliminate these basement spaces.
My RV experiment has been great -- I love living in the RV for the simplicity and cosiness. But in the city I live in, RV spaces aren't exactly cheap. They're half the price of the cheapest single-bedroom and studio apartments. All of my living expenses combined are less than the cheapest one-bedroom apartment I have found. Though, an RV space is roughly a 400 square foot dirt parking space with basic utility hook-ups.
The space I rent, including the footprint of my vehicles on site is about 600 square feet in total -- which, stupidly, includes my parking spaces. Yet I pay just less than $500 per month. That's just over $2 per square foot for my RV alone and $0.79 per square foot including my parking area and lot space.
Numbers, numbers... I just called storage units in town, so I can move my junk from my free space at Grandma's house to a real storage unit. The absolute cheapest unit in town will be $130 per month for 200 square feet. Well, now I have 400 square feet of interior space for the cost of just over $600 per month. For just $400 more per month, I can be a real boy and live in a real house.
These costs reveal that there is a minimum that one can live, just shy of living in a van on the street without rent and utilities. That cost, in the city I work and live, is about $1.30 per square foot for non-cohabitated spaces, about $1.25 per square foot for cohabitated spaces (having roommates), and $2.37 per square foot for living in crazy-town in an RV.
So, what did I just discover? Sure, my total costs per month are low, but so is my available space and sense of normalcy. My RV, not including the cost of the RV itself, is $2.37 per square foot of finished home space.
This colossally stupid realization has me headed for the crazy basement. Because I don't want and will not afford an apartment in this city. No, Sir. Adding insult to injury, let's look at my living expenses, all-inclusive:
The Financial Backside
$475 Rent
$129 Storage Unit Rent
$70 Utils (average, including water, sewer, trash, electricy, and internet)
$90 Phone
$140 Insurance (for my army of garbage)
$25 Propane (average over year)
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$929 per month for core living expenses
+$350 Student loans
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$1279 per month for core living expenses + student loan payments
Houston, we definitely have a problem. The problem is that my core expenses are out of control. And I am paying less than anyone I know in my living costs where I live. Everybody has a cell phone. Everybody pays about what I do in insurance, except those without cars and renter's insurance. Everybody pays rent.
Should I get a roommate? Should I just stay put and enjoy my below-normal living costs? Should I just enter the realm of utter poverty and rent an apartment near work, sell all of my vehicles, and drop my cell phone plan?
Or should I move into the financial basement and live where no one else will (or can)?
Can I eliminate rent? Can I eliminate utilities? What if I could? And, most terrifyingly, what if I have to?
The numbers tell a story of what has to happen and most won't like the answer. I'm fine with it and looking forward to it. But they spell a change coming. Given this cold reality, I have to sell the RV and eliminate rent. The next phase will be ultimately freeing and will give me the extreme edge I am looking for to achieve my goals. I do not fear what will happen if I do; I fear what will happen if I don't.
The system we live in is completely screwed and I will have no part in maintaining its conventions.
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