It's not real yet. Life is still too normal. The fact that I am living out of a car hasn't hit me like a 1000 pound sack of lead-stuffed Beanie Babies, as I thought it would. Have you ever stepped into a new office on the first day of the job, or walked around during the grand opening of an amusement park? Everything is foreign and you walk around absorbing the sights as you aimlessly maneuver your way along a journey of brief discovery. It takes a while to get your bearings and figure out how to get back to your cubicle from the bathrooms across the maze of felt-covered partitions. After a few hours or even days, that soft pretzel stand you swore was right by the giant T-Rex is rediscovered at the feet of a fifty foot tall Captain EO Statue. Time slows down as the map inside your head adds layer upon layer of color and texture. This is the break-in period.
That is exactly where I'm at with this whole adventure. I'm zipping from street to street each night, timing street sweeping schedules and listening for high traffic thoroughfares. My evenings are filled with errands and craigslist sales meetings. I anticipated having too much time on my hands, but I've found myself struggling with a time-drought.
It's only a matter of time before a bright light bursts into shear instinctual eyelid contraction. Then, as I lift my head and open my eyes to a slight squint, I will see a green pasture of peace set before me. I'll have all the time in the world as the clock starts from scratch and I gleefully gather the tools to build a house with a view of the valley and river of life below.
Vagabond Tip of the Day: Pull over to the curb and pretend like you're talking on your cell phone as you wait for a resident to pull through the exit of a gated community. Throw your cell phone onto the passenger seat and gas it through the closing gates after the car has passed to score yourself a safe night's sleep.
That is exactly where I'm at with this whole adventure. I'm zipping from street to street each night, timing street sweeping schedules and listening for high traffic thoroughfares. My evenings are filled with errands and craigslist sales meetings. I anticipated having too much time on my hands, but I've found myself struggling with a time-drought.
It's only a matter of time before a bright light bursts into shear instinctual eyelid contraction. Then, as I lift my head and open my eyes to a slight squint, I will see a green pasture of peace set before me. I'll have all the time in the world as the clock starts from scratch and I gleefully gather the tools to build a house with a view of the valley and river of life below.
Vagabond Tip of the Day: Pull over to the curb and pretend like you're talking on your cell phone as you wait for a resident to pull through the exit of a gated community. Throw your cell phone onto the passenger seat and gas it through the closing gates after the car has passed to score yourself a safe night's sleep.
2 comments:
I want some pics!
I think that was the first time anyone has ever mentioned '1000 pound sack of lead-stuffed Beanie Babies' in a sentence.
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