I only wear teal, perfect for all seasons.

I travel lightly. I don’t believe in emotional baggage, or regular baggage, or silly man-purses.

I don’t believe in meetings, calendars, or letting people lecture me about this fake human construct of “being on time.”

I unfollow. I unsubscribe. I opt-out. I drop out. I drop large objects constantly, baby.

I vacation in places that are simple and modest. Mostly cornfields.

I reduce. I reuse. I recycle. I free-cycled my unicycle because zero wheels is better than one.

I let others pay the brunch bill because I have very, very, very little money.

Every ten minutes, I push the nearest OFF button no matter what.

I practice the polite art of saying, “no.” Also, “nope,” “noooo,” and “this is boring, I hate this, byyeeeee.”

I only close my zipper 50%, which saves thirty seconds per month.

To avoid remembering names, I call everyone “Laura Davis.”

I de-friend those who think my minimalism is “eccentric” and “passive-aggressive.”

Instead of having hundreds of fake “internet friends,” I have zero “real friends.”

For any material possession, I ask, “Is this useful? Is this bitchin’?” If not, I throw it away, whether I own it or not.

I don’t work in a stifling office, at a stifling desk. Nature is my office, my desk, and my bathroom.

I don’t rely on credit cards, checks, paper currency, bitcoin, or bartering. I use nickels.

I don’t use a hundred fancy words when one saucy middle finger will do.

I don’t own lavish clothing, or a big TV, or any forks.

I don’t need or have any pockets. If I find extra stuff, I hand it to Laura Davis.

I use the Benjamin Franklin technique: if things get overwhelming, I sail to France — byyeeeee.

Instead of reading a book filled with different words, I re-read the same word as many times as possible.

Instead of complaining, I look at a picture of a dead guy for ninety seconds. Then I think, “WOW, I’m better than that corpse.”

I don’t feel the need to people please, or to show affection, or to orally communicate with letters or numbers. Gestures are iffy.

My pet is my bestie: a single mushroom named “Laura Davis.”

I live on the equator at the summit of Volcán Cayambe so that I move farther in less time.

I only accept jobs that support my minimalism. So far, that’s none of them.

I end relationships that don’t serve me. So far, that’s all of them.