Right before Labor Day weekend 2012 I had my condo’s AC fail, car’s AC fail, XBox die, and I believe one of my monitors die. That year, every holiday weekend had a major failure, and my salvation came when I received an unsolicited call to go to New York City for a year working at Bloomberg (the company, not the Mayor) — which I did, great year, great people!
In short, I fled, leaving all my troubles behind me.
Memorial day weekend this year, my mouth exploded aborting my Mississippi River trip and leaving me unable to get to the dentist until the long weekend was over (at least it was a nomadic failing).
Today, a day before the holiday weekend, my condo’s AC failed again.
I should be used to it by now, but the timing never ceases to amaze me.
It’s way too early for me to be awake, it’s 85 degrees in the condo, and the home warranty company’s website doesn’t work.
I called in my service request and am awaiting a call-back for appointment (which can take up to 24 hours). Then I’ll be awaiting an appointment. Then they’ll explain why they need parts, and perhaps I’ll have AC next week. Perhaps.
There’s something very poetic about the nomadic lifestyle, right up until you’re trapped from traveling to give your mouth a chance to explode again with a dentist nearby.
A trapped nomad is much like a shipwrecked sailor. I don’t know how people can stand living in a box where things fail continuously. There is a name for it, though.
The name is “pride of ownership.”
As best I can tell, that means “the leash that ties you to liabilities that drain money and life.”
Of course, it’s not just homes.
I lived aboard a sailboat for many years (or as a friend said, I slept aboard). Almost every time I went out the transmission failed to engage reverse when returning to the dock. Every time I had it looked at, it was adjusted but never failed for the mechanic. One learns to come in very slow (but fast enough to maintain way) and make that final turn into the slip at just the right time so all way is lost and the boat stops before hitting the dock or the neighboring vessel.
I donated the boat to charity eventually, thus freeing myself from it. “A hole in the ocean into which money flows one way” indeed. I hope they replaced the transmission (I had put an outboard on by that time).
Someday I’ll discover a way to be nomadic without any ownership. I try to keep things simple, but apparently not simple enough.
It’s a good thing I’m too old or I’d likely re-enlist (the military let me live without requiring ownership).
Keep the Light!