Deep sigh...

I used to enjoy the thought of being a vagabond kind of person---flexible, ready to go, turn on a dime...what an adventure! I certainly think I will always have those characteristics, just maybe not as full throttle as a decade ago. I remember begin proud that I could fit all of my possessions in my orange VW Bug back in the college days.

And now, due to some twisted and never trained responses to life, I have some "monkey on my back" debt that keeps me from being quite everything of who I am. I have been on the slow, drip plan for debt reduction. Chipping away month after tedious month. Three or four years later (see...I so easily loose track of things I have to count), I am ready for the fast-track, try to get debt-free in a year plan.

The fast track plan means I move out of my house for a year and rent it out. I pack up six years of home-ownership and shove it into a garage sized storage area. I do not relish the thoughts of moving, but I do feel excited when I think about the potential for a life change in the course of a year.

So...boxes. Where do you get boxes? Is there a box fairy somewhere I can just call out to? And what about all the disheveled crap in all the corners of my house? Can't hide it if I invite others to come help me move. Can't get motivated to pack it up unless others are present. Can't lift couches and dining room sets alone. Ahhh Catch-22.

T minus 2 weeks. I'm a mixture of sad (to be leaving my house), mad (that I'm even in this dadgum place of debt and it means I have to put out such effort), and happy (to be living with other alive people I enjoy).

An awful lot of my life seems less than stable. I need something in my life that isn't changing and being boxed up, packed away, and stored for later. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for places to rest the weary head for a season and grand ideas of freedom awaiting. But there is no substitute for that place you call home. This weary traveller looks forward to coming home.