Two more days in the house. It's been a blessing to be done with work so that I could begin this process early. With a few boxes packed, suitcases loaded down with winter clothes and furniture sent away to the dig and save, the mountain of work to do has been greatly reduced.
It's amazing what you'll look past when you have good things to focus on. Kris found it outrageous that I was only now getting sick of the house, what with its ridiculously small bedrooms, mouse problems, poor ventilation and sitting across the street from a perpetual construction project. With most of the people I knew here now gone, it's just a piece of shit house. But there was a time when I loved Wilson. I hope that in my memory I'll romanticize it. Such has been the pattern thusfar.
Its greatness, like that of most truly worthwhile poverty-ridden young adult experiences, was the background all-in-this-together vibe of it. Having spent a lot of the year passing time as the extra wheel in other people's friend groups, I look forward to going someplace where most people are starting from the same place. Scratch.
About time to get on the road again.
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