In the past few weeks, or really, if I’m being honest, the past few half-years, I’ve been living an increasingly prominent gypsy lifestyle. While I’ve yet to adopt a crystal ball and lengthy skirts, I’ve got the locationally challenged aspect down. I have been in different towns, different homes, and used different wifi connections – all for the sake of living my somewhat normal life.
Maybe I should explain:
To start, I live with my parents. My wonderful, refusing-to-split-the-water-bill, supportive parents. The move started out as a temporary one (I was out of the country and needed a place to stash my belongings), but now it’s two summers later and I’m still living in my childhood bedroom.
To quote some of the greats:
“I still live with my parents, which I’ll admit is both bogus* and sad. However I do have a cable access show, and I still know how to party.”
-Wayne Campbell in Wayne’s World
“I’m George. I’m unemployed** and I live with my parents.”
-George Costanza in Seinfeld
After returning from my overseas studies, I spent the summer readjusting to eating beef and air conditioning by waitressing at a local restaurant.
Next, I decided that real jobs were for the birds. So, along with my trusty partner, Wonderwall, started my own business. It was months before I was making money, and once the cash was flowing, moving seemed like a real inconvenience. Now more than a year and trimester later, I’ve stayed put. Reduced bills, the ability to come and go without lecture, and expensive cable and DVRing – other than being typecast as a townie or professional mama’s boy, I don’t see a reason to leave.
Now back to being a gypsy:
The boy, Manny, lives about 50-ish miles away, in the middle of nowhere. This past weekend we moved him into said nowhere, putting him an added 15 minutes away from his previous, already distanced location. It was an act that he said is “testing my love,” after having moved even further away from me in the previous year. (Then again, perhaps I should take this as a hint.)
Because Manny and I are old fashioned, Jesus lovers, and have a lot of grandparents, we have opted to remain at separate locations. Come each week, I pack up, drive, and visit my closer-than-objects-appear boyfriend. It’s an act that has created two, parallel living environments, like I’m a self-chosen product of Back to the Future, only without window bars or floating cars. Also, somehow this event took place without the help of the flux capacitor … or the invention of the Hoverboard.
Anyway, while I don’t think I could pull off gold chains and I have a suitcase for a BFF, it’s an act that has made me feel more gypsy-like by the month.
Gypsy part two:
Adding to my where-my-head-falls lifestyle, in the past two weeks there has been an extended family visit, a power outage (causing me to re-locate, once again), a scheduled outing, and an upcoming vacation. In 14 days, I have spent only five of them at “home”. Just one more day and I’m off to see Wonderwall and visit with my cousins, where I’ll once again be traveling to a distant land.
Perhaps for the Olympics I’ll spend multiple nights at home, logging hours with my stationary closet – allowing myself ample outfit choices. But until then, I’ll continue to travel, to spend time with Manny, and to push my suitcase beyond its comfort levels. Only when I start swindling others for cash will I reconsider living the gypsy life.
*It’s really not that bogus.
**I’m not unemployed.