(This is not an essay. Not that many of these are. I’m just thinking aloud. Continue at your own risk. Please don’t give me advice. You’re right. Let’s paywall it.)
I’m starting to question why I live anywhere at all. This happens on occasion. I get restless. And I do crazy things like selling a house and moving into a Winnebago. Doesn’t help that I don’t have a house to sell or a job I’ve got to be at in the morning. I’m kind of hoping this road trip talks me out of the Winnebago thing.
I like Austin. I do like having a place to hang my longhorns and a few paintings my brother gave me. I like knowing my neighbors. Woody likes his neighborhood friends. But goddamn I want to up and go. But I’ll never make enough to buy a house here. I don’t know how much longer I can afford rent.
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