Could I simplify my life enough to avoid even these hassles? Sell my car so there’s no need to worry about it sitting in my garage. Get rid of all the stuff in my basement so I don’t have to worry that it will mildew or be chewed into mouse nests or be flooded the next time the rain makes it in. Get rid of the basement itself – sell the house instead of hanging onto it as an anchor to which I’m tied with chains that feel much too heavy right now.
Could I really sell it? Do I really want to have no place that I could call home if I needed to? Maybe I do. For some years I enjoyed feeling that I was tied into this community, active in my neighborhood, at the county level, and on regional issues. I loved coming home to my house, knowing people in the community, hanging out in a coffee house where everyone knew me, addressing the county board members as Chris and Jay, not Mr. Zimmerman or Mr. Fisette.
Some people on the road say the world is their community. I don’t say that. I don’t want any community. I meet lots of people on the road, and that’s fascinating, but our interactions are utterly superficial and we have no expectation of ever seeing each other again. Which is perfectly fine with me. My interest in these interactions is intellectual, or sociological. I don’t necessarily like the people I meet, or want to be friends with them. I want to see more of the range of people and lives out there, talk to people I wouldn’t be friends with, get a glimpse of all different ways of living. I suppose this is terribly selfish of me, but if I’m not hurting anyone else by it, I’m not creating expectations that I won’t live up to, then perhaps it’s okay. After all, most of the folks I wrote about a few days ago certainly don’t care about me either.
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