I have decided to buy a house.
Or rather, I have decided that buying a house would solve a dilemma or two while being a nice investment.
I love new places and travelling. However. I do not like moving and the unpleasant process of toting all my possessions here and there (granted, all of my possessions have yet to move…a significant bit of my random memories and collectibles remain at my parents’ house).
So! I have concluded that the best option is for me to purchase one of my ideal homes (yes, there are several – whether I ever inhabit any of them is yet to be determined). That way, I can just move allllll of my stuff to My House, and it’s always at My House for when I need/want it. Then, I will just pack my suitcase and go off to have some adventures. Maybe even long-term adventures. But really, the stuff I need to go about my daily life is minimal or easily purchased at the destination. I just can’t manage to throw away things that I might use down the road, or my future children might find amusing, or someone writing my literary biography might find useful (can any writer truthfully claim to wholly lack the narcissistc tendency of contemplating potential greatness such that would lead to others caring about the scraps they doodled on in high school?).
Obviously I am not going to buy a house.
But unfortunately, I don’t think this dilemma of (cherishing the life I have lived and wanting to in some small way preserve it) and (wanting to be unattached so that I might leap between countries and adventures without the hindrance of strings) is going to disappear anytime soon. Or ever really. There are always going to be strings attaching me to places and things and people, maybe it’s just a matter of not letting them pull me apart. I don’t always have to let go or sever the strings, but sometimes, for a time, one or two might need a little more slack than I am accustomed to giving.