I fear Daniel might be having something of an existential crisis. Last night when he came home from work he told me that he wanted to disappear. He wanted to get rid of his house, boat, truck, cell phone, credit cards, etc. He wanted to find a home in a remote area of Colorado or Arizona and relocate. Now, he said all this after having downed half of a pint bottle of Jack Daniels. Still, his eyes pleaded with me when he spoke.
I'm done with all this, he said.
As a contractor, Daniel is always lining up jobs while he's currently working. He's already got his next gig lined up. In Arizona. His current contract ends within the next two to four months, and then off he goes to Arizona. The idea is that I would go with him. I mean, it's not like I have a job keeping me here. In fact, maybe the job market is better in Arizona.
His lofty goal is to own a home somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. A home on a lot of acres where we could have dogs and cats and chickens and horses. This home would be our home base. Then we would travel where the work takes him and return to home base in between jobs. I can write anywhere. And for some reason should my writing not take off, I'd have to find something else to do as we traveled from city to city like nomads.
I rather like the idea. I'd love to see new cities and new states. Meet new people. Sometimes I think I'd miss Long Beach. Or California in general. But who am I kidding? My rent eats up 3/4 of what I make on unemployment. Traffic is atrocious. I have few friends here. And someday the state could fall into the ocean.
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