You’ll spend a lot of evenings in run-down eateries, slumping over steaming bowls of noodles while taking advantage of someone else’s heat and light.
If you’re lucky, you might meet a girl or guy willing to turn on the heat in their apartment, and spend some nights defrosting there.
For weekend entertainment, go to the corner park and sit on the swing-set drinking 100-yen cups of shochu.
Forget about dating, unless that guy sleeping in the cardboard box takes a shine to you. Now you can keep the lights on until bedtime, and perhaps buy a blanket for warmth. This doesn’t mean you will perform many functions at work.
You can probably afford to run the heater an hour a day and the lights two.
If you save up for a fan and buckets of ice, you can remain alive. If you have anything close to allergies you will be constantly blessed through sneezing. If you search hard and have connections, you can probably find a decent apartment (it helps if you look “Asian”).
Plus, your arms will be in great shape from constantly fanning. Remember that God loves you, even if no one else in this nation does. You might find a place with a couple of windows and a kitchen where you can balance a dollar-store cutting board on top of a mini fridge and actually cook food featuring exotic ingredients such as meat, fish, and vegetables. Begin making the jump from malt liquor to actual beer, or occasionally, wine.
Literally, you’ll wear many hats just to stave off freaking hypothermia.
If you haunt the supermarket after 10 p.m., you can pick up 70%-off sushi and enough potatoes and carrots to keep you alive, although scurvy remains a serious concern.
With this generous renumeration, you can move out of the meat locker and into a walk-in closet.