The grass is dead….
Roof is damaged…
Attics full of mold…
Plumbing leaks…
Electrical system shorted….
Walls are weathered and worn….
Foundation is weak and crumbling….
I’m not sure she can withstand another thunderstorm. Not to mention another hurricane. Yeah, I reckon it’s time to cut my losses and move. Yet I’m so hesitant. Sure there’s the enticement of home shopping. Moving in is full of excitement. Though I’m wise enough to expect to find faults. Loose screws here and there. Why, though, why so hesitant to move. Probably because I’ve adapted. I know where to place buckets when it rains, which electrical sockets poke me, which walls are drafty when it’s cold. At what point do I say some shelter is better than no shelter? At what point do I accept this shelter is more of a funnel, channeling the storm towards me?
35 comments
Sounds like the Enterprise has seen better days.
We become comfortable in our homes (okay, well, not all of us) and attached to them. Would it be worth the cost to do the necessary repairs?
Maybe “The Universe” wants you to relocate to a southern latitude. A place with less snow, more temperate winters, a location where you can set up a Yurt. Some of those Yurts are nice. They’re like a tent on steroids (hardwood floors, chimney, electricity, portable and fabulous views).
The mountains of New Mexico are really nice this time of year.
They call the upper Mid-West “the Rust Belt” for valid reasons.
I’m not sure if you’re talking metaphorically here or not…
Theoretically, it’s literal, in a metaphorical sense.
Ah, so you actually are talking about your house, and not your life then. I was just thinking that it sounded a lot like my life.
I have also just moved. The fun has worn off already – 10 days in…
Alan, you can put up with a lot of shit if the price is right.
Oh I’m not opposed to the low rent district. If the outside is presentable, the entrance is accessible, I’m more than happy to come inside.
I Liked the camper idea, low payments. my plan is to pull a reverse mortgage and have no payments till i die.
How about a van down by the river?
Hahhaha.
A van down by the river sounds like a fisherman’s dream.
Hey, who doesn’t enjoy camping?
They way I look people expect 1 of 2 options.
#1 going into the woods with me is super safe, I’m a survivalist.
#2 going into the woods with me, how long until police find their body?
Or a combination of both, depending on the timeline.
😉
If you do the job well enough, police may *never* find the body…
Here I am after being sick all day.
Sorry it took me awhile to get here.
I kinda liked your camper idea awhile back, if you can find a good spot to make it through the winter.
If you can afford a house or apt, then go with that.
Either way it will feel good to get out of the literal/metaphorical wreck.
I’m actually speaking metaphorical.
But, also literal.
As of now my options are vast. I’m really just wanting to have a lease lined up. Some motivation through the transition.
Good idea, having something lined up and ready to grab onto when the literal/metaphorical storm gets worse.
Hope is a golden thing to have during hellish times.
The keyboardist just did a mash-up of The Cure and Led Zeppelin. I didn’t know that was even possible. It sounded pretty good. I clapped.
Morris, the only mash up I’m interested in results in the clap.
Errr,, wait… nevermind
I wonder if there’s a eHarmony for the mentally fucked? I know everyone shys away from suicidal dating because of the obvious negative influence possibility. On the other hand, having someone who relates is way better than someone who’d freak out if I said I’d like to bungee jump, but with a rope instead of a bungee, tied around my neck. You know?
As near as I’ve seen over the past few months, SP *is* the eHarmony for the mentally fucked.
No happy endings, though.
Awwww. So, howd it end then?
Everything always depends on the next bungee jump.
Literally/Metaphorically.
Hypothetically, if I metaphorically made the leap,then theoretically, could I literally die?
Yes.
Yes, there are dating sites for people with depression or chronic illnesses. I have never used one.
I’m planning on purchasing a camper van sometime this year, and going on a cross-country roadtrip across the U.S. After that I’ll settle somewhere in the Pacific Northwest and find a temporary job (until I feel like moving on again). I got no dependents; no spouse, kids, pets, etc., so all I have to worry about is myself. (Which is plenty.)
Jesus mostly just played bass in reggae bands,
he never issued any decrees on three-somes or keyboard players. (Relax). He’s checking lottery numbers too.
I suspect he’s paying $10 a pack for Marlboro’s too nowadays.
(I know. That’s just wrong. Apparently his super-human powers have no effect on the anti-smoking lobby).
When you think about it, $10 for a pack of smokes isn’t that bad, compared to paying $6 or more for one shot of alcohol.
Wow. My comments make no sense. Even to me.
Goodnight, Pilgrims.
Huh, I figured it made sense but was just too deep for me to grasp. Like, I needed to do a training montage, get into the big showdown, then as I’m about to lose it’ll make sense and inspire me to win.
Try not to get kicked out of the bar there, sailor. Leave before that happens. 😉
I’ve never been kicked out of a bar. Although I’ve had staff members escort me, well carry me out to my car….or well actually the sidewalk.
A few times, they even helped me lay down so I didn’t stumble and fall. Somehow, I’d still end up scraped and bruised….
I’m sure Morris has been kicked out dozens of times.
J/k.
One time he drank a bunch of beers, posted a blurry selfie here (didn’t show much), deleted it within twenty minutes, then went to a bar and almost got into a fight with a bunch of obnoxious bikers. I told him it wasn’t worth getting beat up, and they soon left anyway.
I’ve only been told it was time to leave at the end of the night when they were closing. I’m a pretty well behaved drunk.
* I hate it when I unconsciously repeat words, and I do that far too often. Merde.