It’s finally time to talk about the elephant in the room. Or rather, the elephant on the blog. The same thing I’ve been avoiding mentioning (sort of on purpose) for months: my living situation. Which currently, is a combination of addresses and locations. And yes, it’s super confusing and not at all normal – I’m constantly asking myself what address I gave my clients with this month? (Trick question, they never pay attention and mail to whatever’s on file – their checks always seem to find me). When am I picking up which set of mail? And where are the rest of my summer clothes hiding? Shopping spree instead? Ok!
It’s not that I’ve been avoiding my lack of address, but it’s … weird. Like anyone trying to chomp off a bite of something gigantic, I didn’t know where to start.
Secondly, I had a medium-serious iron in play, but now that it’s settled, I can finally discuss my mostly homeless-ness – and the series of events that got me here.
How it Went Down
First, the beginning of 2014 was met with the end of my “permanent” address. Because of breaking up. And since a half acre with livestock seemed like too much responsibility for a single gal (and also because the mower wasn’t mine), I peaced.
Next, I thought I’d buy a house. Because I’m frugal and have a large amount of furniture. Knowing those things take some time, I put my things in storage while living in my parents’ guest room.
Side note: my parents have a giant basement where I – theoretically – could have stored my things for free. BUT they’re trying to sell their house and ruin my life. So 1) they didn’t want my clutter jacking up their sale, and 2) every time it shows I have to cram my clothes into suitcases. To make it look like I’m not the squatter I truly am.
Except that I found the house, but didn’t get it. Then within four days, part 3 happened.
Next, I almost moved out of town. For a potential job – which was two+ months in waiting time. During this time, I worked and chilled from my parents’ kitchen table, waiting to see which town I’d eventually move to. But by the end of it, the current/potential employer and I couldn’t reach an agreement and decided to part on still-positive terms. (Which is more than I can say for part 1 – badum-ching!)
I have tasted freedom. With my job, I can work from anywhere. ANYWHERE.* And it’s the best thing that you’ll ever experience ever. For realz (she wrote, typing from a sunny beach in California). Give me a cup of tea and a table for my to-do list and watch me go.
After parts 1-3, I decided 4 is not something I’m ready to give up.
What’s up, homie?
Now I’m probably never going “home.” With a week scheduled at Hilde’s new coastal location, directly followed by a stint in my friend’s guest room (for planned activities), I can probably just keep freeloading my life away. I’ll still collect my checks – you know, whenever I catch up to the mail, but just live in everyone else’s house. And to make up for it I’ll do laundry or pay the electric bill – or both.
Except that Toga (the best cat in the world) needs to come too. Sure he’s super happy having daily wrestling bouts with his blood brother/adopted uncle, but he is MINE and my parents can’t have him. Only when I need free babysitting, which is their duty as grandparents.
Will I eventually get a home? Duh. But why ruin this good thing I’ve got going on? Homes are for suckers.
*With accessible Wi-Fi