I know it isn't always being you, either, but a lot of y'all seem to have me beat 12 ways from Sunday when it comes to coping with the stresses coming from both outside and inside your heads.
When I was out in the desert yesterday, I should have jumped the fence and taken possession of that cabin I photographed. No water, no indoor plumbing, no electricity, but hey, it felt somewhat like home to me. A good place to get into full hermit-mode.
I blame my current woes on two events that took place back in about 1969. First, I tried to get a VW Microbus, but the one I wanted was too much money. Then I hatched a plan (which also fell through) to buy a surplus school bus -- appropriately, what some now call a "short bus" -- and convert it into a mobile living space.
Because neither happened, I somehow found myself walking this narrow line between the suburban world and some kind of get-me-out-of-here vibe. I haven't actually worn a tie on a daily basis since 1972 (in fact, I wore one exactly four times last year and have yet to do so this year), but I still feel the urge to settle down in a cozy home with a cozy wife and a couple of cozy cars in the garage.
Not so bad, except that the cozy home began to get more and more elaborate in my mind. Now, I'm reverting.
That, in turn, may be a reaction to not having the cozy wife to, well, make life cozy for.
When I was a wee lad, my aunt lived for a while in a stone house out in the desert near semi-wonderful Ludlow, California. Once, I was taken out to that beyond-the-edge-of-nowhere place to spend some time with her.
And I dug it.
The stars were arrayed in the sky millions-deep, the seemingly limitless desert held no fear for me -- even though the coyotes howled at night -- and the house's well had plenty of cool, fresh water. On hot days, the house was cool inside. Since the place was near a main road, it had electricity and a telephone.
It seemed to me then that nothing could be better than living out there.
I'd forgotten about that until yesterday when I saw the ruins of a stone house that must have been pretty nifty at one time...
If only I could find a willing hermitess to join me, I'd go looking for that stone pad near Ludlow again.
If, that is, it hasn't been swallowed up by Progress.
Probably better not to search for it. I might find that I don't belong there any more than I do here, and that would only make matters worse.
9 comments:
Hang in there Scribs. There has to be a hermitess out there for you..
Gill
Ludlow....wasn't that town for sale for $3 mil about 5 years ago? I have such wonderful memories of Ludlow. There's something about those little towns scattered across the dry California desert.
At one time in my life that lifestyle was oddly appealing to me, too. Things happen for a reason, Scribbs. You'll never figure it out, so just go with it and keep looking for that hermitess, or heiress, or whoever she turns out to be. :)
Summerwind -- no, that was some other rathole desert town....
um.... Scribbler, i looked at the link.... and.... well... THERE ARE NO TREES!!!!
You can NOT authentically be a hermit in a place with no TREES!!!
I lived in a VW bus a couple times.
The thrill wore off after about 4 hours. I was stuck in it for 2 weeks. I suffered greatly.
Come to Kauai.
THIS is the ultimate hermit hideout.
(expensive as hell - but doable.)
Hugs and AlooooHa!
KF -- there are trees out there somewhere. Not many, and not very large, but trees nonetheless.
And it's way cheaper than Kauai!
....and I ran off with a man to live in a half finished cabin. I got that checked off my "to do" list early on. Now when someone asks if the water is too hot or too cold - I'm just glad I didn't have to haul it from the creek.
joan -- I may feel yearnings of hermit-hood, but I am addicted to running water, preferably hot or cold as desired.
ok, you got me on the "cheaper than Kauai" part.
What i'd really wish for you is ABUNDANCE, a WIFE, and Non-Hermitance. (Oh, and that cool car)
I wish for you everything you wish for - and more.
Hugs!
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