I have no nostalgia at all. I can’t even vividly remember the house now. Everyone asks constantly, do you miss it? I miss the neighbours, but not having a house, oh no. I’m deeply enjoying the reprieve from having every month pivot on the day the mortgage is due. Lots of people get rigid, cramped expressions on their faces when I grin and announce I’m living out of a Boler parked in a friend’s backyard, but I’m thrilled to be living exactly within my unemployed means. It feels so much healthier than that big house.
The lap of luxury is at the end of an extension cord in my little bubble, with an electric heater, two propane burners and a fridge. All one could need, only in miniature. Continue reading Nostalgia proof