Only once the day has arrived when I wave and hug goodbye to friends and family and pull my car door closed to begin a new adventure do I realize just how very restless I am. (That’s not a run-on sentence, by the way.)
It’s true. Often I argue with myself on how I want to settle, work, begin a family, raise a brood, purchase an aquatic vehicle, and tuck my striped polo shirt into my khaki shorts until I have a heart attack in my sleep, like any normal American. But the louder, more convincing side says it’d rather move around a bunch more, find someone who isn’t afraid to buy a camper and live on the side of the road for the next fifteen years, and have fun doing things most people skip or miss out on entirely. Where’s the rule that says I need to be boring as soon as possible?
So yeah. That’s my “In a strange parking lot in another state with all my belongings currently in my car” rant. I’m ready to have fun and do things I can’t do when I have a regular job, but I need one soon if I wish to stay un-homeless.
Those guys do make a ton of money, though…
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