Being broke is the new iPhone—seemingly everywhere and novelty wearing thin.

I never thought I’d see the day that some abstract concept (known by some as ‘the economy’) would affect my lifestyle; then again, I never thought I’d see the day that “Tardy for the Party” would become a real song. Never say never, I suppose.

It would be all-too-easy to list off the concessions I have made in correspondence with the crumbling world economy. From surviving the summer with one pair of shorts —yes, one…thank God for the cool Chicago summer of ‘09—to embracing the art of coupons, I have become acutely aware of what happens when people stop being polite and stop getting freelance gigs—The Real World, Calcutta.

With all of the ch-ch-ch-changes I have ushered in over the course of the past calendar year, I have managed to discover a few unintended, yet beneficial side effects of struggling. Requiring me to live on, with and for less, the economic downturn has proven to be some kind of Wal-Mart-inspired Buddhist proverb on the relinquishing of desire…or at least rolling back prices.

One recessional benefit pertains to housekeeping. When you don’t have much, your apartment looks much cleaner and better organized. If we use the economic index as a trend-forecaster, the minimal look is on its way back in. Less is less.

Personal fitness also benefits from a floundering checking account balance. Possessing a gym membership amidst financial hardship results in guilt, which increases attendance. Once a given and now a luxury, working out has drifted from the category of obligation to that of entertainment. Factor in the cost-savings of socially-acceptable anorexia and voilà! Your body suddenly looks exponentially better than it did during the Bush administration. P90X has nothing on poverty.

Finally, being broke is a great way to break off friendships that you were never really invested in anyway. When $100 nights of eating and drinking are no longer the norm, take a look at who you’re still spending time with. It is likely the friends with whom you would candidly discuss irregular bowel movements and stranger-than-fiction family history. Quality rises when quantity falls.

There is a common tie among these and many other benefits of a lifestyle reduction. Distraction. Money buys distractions. Chotchkies. Buzzes. Entertainment. Mobility. When these things cease to be an option, we’re left with ourselves. Though scary at first, an un-distracted period has a lot to offer. Mainly, clarity.

As clean as my apartment may be and as minimal as my muffin top has become, the real gift of being broke resides in time. Time to think, plot, figure and plan. Time to explore options. Time to see things for what they are.

So thanks, economy. Thanks for tanking. Thanks for leaving me high and (almost) dry. I owe you one. And if you happen to have an ‘in’ with Mother Nature, pass along my request for a mild winter…I’d like to get through it without a new coat.