It’s now official... my house has been sold and I need to move. So the scrounge for cardboard boxes begins. That’s cardboard boxes to put my stuff in, not to live in. Just thought I should clarify.
My brother likes the idea of living in a motor home or caravan. I guess he’s attracted to the romanticism of being able to change address at the turn of your ignition key... of being some kind of nomadic, music writing retro-hippie. Me... I’m not so keen on the idea of doing my ‘business’ into a small chemical filled bucket that I need to empty by hand. Er.... not quite as nice a picture... sorry.
So, it’s time for another change in my life. A change that has been brought on by circumstances beyond my control. A change that honestly I’m not in the mood for. But, what can you do? I could sit around snivelling about it, or I could ‘man-up’ and get on with things. Can I have a minute to decide please?
At the same time I’m beginning to consider my options for employment for next year. I’m no longer sure if where I am now is a good fit. It’s a bit like your favourite pair of old jeans... they’re comfortable and familiar, you’ve had great times in them... but the zipper no longer holds up all the time and colour is wearing a bit thin.
Of course, in my normal style I have no idea what else to do with myself if I were to leave. Any suggestions? Astronaut, cowboy, race car driver, Zorro, meat-pie filling inspector, shark whisperer, spy, reality tv host/contestant/critic, henchman.
There is a plethora of options, I’m sure to hit on something good eventually. In the meantime I think I will shut my eyes, turn up the ipod, and sink into a cola fuelled stupor. Mmmmmmm... stupor.
