"...day 580"

I’m Home! Glory Hallelujah! It’s wonderful!

For a long time I kept it exactly as the contractors finished it. I couldn’t believe it was really my home. I felt like I was in a hotel or a friends house. For those coming late to this saga. A decade ago I was houseless for a year. Long story. I kept it a secret. ‘Lived in my office then the street. My sister found out, and rescued me. She’s been keeping a loving eye on me since.

Having lost one, Home means a great deal to me. See my humble tho' cute digs the day I moved in. Home is where you can walk around butt nekkid eating a ham sandwich with the radio, and tv on loud while talking to yourself, and painting the kitchen cabinets. It’s sacred turf.

Speaking of lost.

Along with my home my stuff vanished as well. These were deposited into various mafia run landfills. The potters fields of our everyday utensils. There our former possessions are interred. Items of wood paper, and common, though all but eternal plastic. Our former companions will sleep the centuries in these places.

They’ll wait for future archaeologists to discover them. They’ll be unearthed mis-described, mis-labeled, and earn tenures for generations of academics. An interesting destiny for Malibu Barbie.

In these harsh confused times one thinks. You consider what you’re grateful for. It’s right in front of us, but the daily static gets in the way. It’s the stuff of Hallmark cards. There’s a reason billions sell every day. Family, and friends. That sums it up. Complicated contradictory impossible, and these days distant human stuff. ‘But so what. They are the world. That, and cute digs to play in.