Yesterday I told our head chef that he should work less, he responded “But do you want to make singles or thousands?” to which I replied “Singles! Singles for a single guy!”
I said it mostly because of the very hilarious word play, but it’s also true. I like being poor and lonely, and it isn’t because of my desire for something to complain about (it doesn’t hurt), but rather because I hate responsibility. If I had money, I’d have to think of what I should do with it besides pay rent, and if I had companionship, I’d have to care about someone besides myself.
I only have the energy to survive – everything else seems like a lot of work.