Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Post One Hundred and Forty One: I Was Just Wandering.
And there ain't nothing wrong with a spot of homelessness.
(Obviously this is a highly insensitive statement to true homeless folk and I'm not actually dumpster diving and huddled in a trolley.) I'm drifting from place to place until I find a home. It's a bit shit, but I have hope that a house will be all like "Sarah, I'm cosy and cheap, look at my strong walls and generous pantry! I want you, I need you etc...."
It's a long story, but one that one day will deserve more than a brief mention. Needless to say, I am without roof of my own. It's not ideal by today's societal standards, but y'know what, it's a bloody thrill.
What makes a mortician comfortable at the end of the day? Is it four walls and a door to close? I think not, and something tells me that I'm in for some learnings.
Fate be kind, and bring me a chimney.