I’ve never thought of myself as a very frugal person.

I own hundreds of books and CDs, and I often purchase expensive cheese to snack on before dinner. I go to concerts and movies on a fairly regular basis, and I have a bad habit of buying way too much trail mix before I go hiking. I take lots of little road trips to visit friends and family, and so I’m always buying gas, and I commute to work, which doesn’t help. I’ve got an old Nintendo, a pretty good cable package and a nice little flat-screen TV, and I spend a lot of time on the web, listening to music and reading commentary and writing e-mail.

This week, I’ve been working on a couple of articles about people who are trying to live more simply, or frugally. Much of what these people do is pretty basic stuff. They garden, can their own food, insulate their houses to reduce energy consumption, and buy used furniture and second-hand clothes. Most of the people I talked to own a lot of land, which enables them to do things that require a certain amount of space, such as erect windmills, or plant an orchard, or even stock a small pond with fish.

I’m interested in these sorts of projects, but because I’m a renter and live in a city, I’ve always assumed that my ability to impact my own environment is somewhat limited. But then I talked to a couple, Scott Kellogg and Stacey Pettigrew, who live in Albany, in an apartment not much bigger than mine, and have authored a book, the “Toolbox for Sustainable City Living,” that aims to teach city dwellers such as myself how to produce their own food, manage waste and generate energy.

My old apartment was possibly the least energy-efficient building on earth. It wasn’t insulated, and the utilities were included with the rent, which is great if you’re a tenant, but not necessarily great for the Earth, because it means that the heat is always going full blast and leaking out of the building. But I moved into a new building in June, and the new building is a little different. For one thing, I control the heat. I also have an outdoor area. Not a yard, because yards have grass, but a fenced-in space that is perfectly suitable for grilling and drinking beer.

Scott and Stacey got me thinking, though. What else could I do with my outdoor area? Could I do something with pots, and grow vegetables? As soon as I left the interview, I began to contemplate starting my first garden.

And I wondered: Did I want to live more frugally myself?

As I researched frugal living, I realized that I’ve already got some of the basics down. I hardly ever buy new clothes, and I now understand that I could just stop buying new clothes forever, and go to the local thrift stores whenever I need something. I’m already the least fashion conscious person on earth — why not take it a step further, and reap some economic benefit? Except for my bed, I’ve never bought a new piece of furniture. My kitchen table, couch and chairs are all hand-me-downs from friends and family, and my TV stand was salvaged from the trash. And I’ve been keeping the thermostat in the low 60s when I’m home, and lowering it to the 50s when I’m sleeping and at work.

It’s been pretty easy for me to do these things (or not do them, as the case may be) because I’m lazy, and I have an irrational aversion to stores and shopping. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to never go to a clothing store. But am I capable of taking bigger steps — of doing things I’ve never done before, things that would require a certain amount of self-education and effort? Could I actually maintain a small garden?

Personal history suggests this could be a huge challenge. The last time I was entrusted with the care of plants, I performed abysmally. I simply forgot about them, and when my college roommate returned from break, she surveyed the wilting plants, and quietly asked, “Did you remember to water my plants?” “Oh, no!” I exclaimed. “The plants!” “Have you even opened the blinds since I left?” she asked. “No,” I said, sheepishly. But she wasn’t done. “So the plants have been deprived of sunlight AND water, for over a month?” “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Which is true. I don’t know what I was thinking. I looked at those plants every day, and it never occurred to me to water them, or open the blinds. Still, times change, and maybe it’s time to give plants another go. It would be fun, I think, to eat tomatoes grown in my little outdoor area. Even more fun, maybe, than never buying clothes and finding furniture in the trash.

Foss Forward makes a weekly appearance in print, in The Gazette’s Saturday Lifestyles section.