The Itch

I saw a van for sale today. $250. I got this feeling…

The van was parked outside of the end of semester Utah State University “yard sale.” The University sells a bunch of stuff that it isn’t going to use anymore, so I like to stop in and see what cool stuff they’ve got. (Incidentally, I spent seventy-five cents on used office supplies.)

I looked at the sticker on the windshield of the van. $250; sold as-is. Awesome. I looked in through the window of the full sized van. There were two bucket seats in the front, a center bench, and the rest was open space. That’s when I felt The Itch.

I just finished having a conversation with friend of mine about a Christmas dilemma that I am facing. I don’t want stuff for Christmas this year, but I don’t know how to explain that to my family. If I say “please don’t get me anything,” they still will. The problem is, they will be left to their own imaginations to find out what I want. They will buy me something for my personal life or my classroom, neither of which will be very valuable to me. I have what I need. Most anything else would just get in the way. On the other hand, if I tell them, “I don’t want anything, but if you MUST get me something, please get me this and this and that”, then they will listen more to the second part and not the first. What’s a brother to do?

So, here I sit in my eerily bare bedroom, typing this message. My room is WAY to big for me. I don’t have enough stuff to fill up a room. If only my landlord would let me rent out the closet like I offered, he could make more money, and I could have a more appropriately sized living quarters. All I really need is an area about the size of the back of a van.

I’ve been homed (home-ed) now for four months now. It’s terribly boring. So when I see a “mobile home” on sale for $250, my mind starts racing. I pay more than $250 for rent. I could convert one month of rent money into a home that would last for a year at least. I have a nice enough car that I could just park the van wherever I liked and live there at nights. I have plenty of connections. I could park it in Paradise (the city, and the state of being) by Georgianne’s place. I could park it at Rich’s farm. I could park it on Pat’s property. I wouldn’t even need to register it and use it as a van. It would be a tent that would be weather sealed against the rain and snow. Awesome.

One of the big reasons I bought my convertible was to discourage me from living out of my car again. In all, I have lived in a Lincoln Towncar, a Mazda 626, a Pontiac Trans Sport, and a Chevy Blazer. It is just too easy to be homeless. I had to find something that couldn’t protect me from a Logan winter. I thought the convertible would protect me from The Itch. I was wrong.

I got huge paycheck this month, and I have a Christmas bonus on it’s way, so buying the van wouldn’t affect my budget. I could keep the room I rent and STILL be a homeless guy. You know, just on weekends and holidays. I could have an easy place to shower on Sunday, but still have the simplicity of homelessness. This way, I could be “in the home” but not “of the home.” I could honestly tell people that I am not homeless, but I could still live the homeless way.

I know that I shouldn’t think about it. But every now and then, I just feel The Itch–a call from the other side of the hill, reminding me how green I feel when I am homeless.

Maybe I should go camping this weekend.