Being this poor is like living in the 19th century.
Having no money is like being in temporal bubble, separated from other people who drink coffee out of disposable cups, wearing plastic shoes and styling their hair with goop aided by nanotechnology.
I do a lot of walking because I can’t afford to take the train and my bike tire is flat. (Even a bike is too convenient.) The exercise is nice, but the relaxing qualities usually gleaned from exercise are negated by the fact that it’s not a leisure activity for me anymore- now it is a commitment with a goal of getting somewhere. Exercise should be a planned leisure activity. It is not to be encountered naturally. Those Who Drink out of Disposable Cups take cabs to the gym, so that no exercise will be experienced outside of the designated zones.
If it takes two seconds from someone pressing ‘SEND’ to my phone receiving the text message, I feel like I should be able to teleport as quickly, or at least get on the train. Frustratingly, I can receive communications with immediacy, but it’s like jumping off of a train (new text message!) into a vat of jello (having to walk to the place where we’re all meeting up).
Back in the day of Sherlock Holmes, (where I feel like I now live), you could send a telegram or letter saying “My Dear Sir: I hope to have the pleasure of speaking to you at 221B Baker Street tomorrow at two in the afternoon to discuss the affair of my dear niece who has, unhappily, had the grievous misfortune of having her jewels stolen.” Also, you didn’t have to call before you showed up because not everyone had a phone, much less an answering machine, much less a portable one that demands everyone have access to everyone at all times.
I continue to write letters to my grandmother (it would be cooler if I had stationary like everyone seemed to back in Holmes’s day.) I even hand wash my clothes and drape them over a radiator to save money. I chop my own vegetables! But I do draw the line at killing my own animals and baking my own bread.