June 15, 2009

• I’m looking at a duplex again tomorrow.  This time I’ll see where my would-be renter lives.  I can’t even imagine living on the other side of a wall from someone.  The last time I did that I was 20. 

  A loose chain of events took me there.  And I’d have to leave all my wordly possesions behind in order to cram myself into the little two-bedroom, ’50s abode.  It’s sweet, though.  Except for the bedrooms which frighten me they are so small.  I don’t think I could breathe in there, let alone sleep. 

  Also the yard is way too big, and I’d be the one to mow it.  I’m trying to get away from yardwork so what am I thinking?    I’m thinking I want to be in Florida half the year and the only way to swing it is to sell this place and find something worth half the value. 

  I walked through the woods and treasured each tree.  I sat by the campfire and almost lit it.  I fondled my banister and rocked in the wicker chairs on the front porch but still I’m thinking of leaving it all behind. 

  I suspect I’m trying to hang onto an image I fear losing; furniture I won’t be able to afford again. I lucked into this place and I’m not likely to find anything I like as much.  But it’s just too much for one person.

  I don’t know what to do.

  • 3:11 am
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