Last Tuesday, after I dropped Bonnie off at the airport, I went back home to pick up some things I had forgotten to take with me to the condo. It would have taken me over two hours to get back to the condo had I turned right around and driven back, so I hung around town for a few hours to kill time until traffic died down. I went home, picked up the things I needed, and then looked around the house for something to do to kill time. There’s no end to the list of things I need to do around here, but I didn’t have time or the desire to get into a project. Everything that I normally would have used to kill a few hours was back at the condo, and as I looked around the house at all of the shit that I owned that I had no use for at that moment, I couldn’t help but think, why don’t I just get rid of all of it?

I pulled some weeds because that was an easy task to check off of my list, and then I went to charge the car and get something to eat. While I was sitting in my car, eating and thinking about what I could do for another hour, I felt transient. There was nothing at my house that interested me. Everything that interested me was back at the condo. I’ve been in situations like this before, where I’m killing time in another city, waiting for a train or whatever, and I have no connection to the city or anyone or anything in it. I have no place of my own. I’m just a transient. That’s how I felt even though I had a house I could have gone to.

It was an ugly feeling. I started to imagine how actual transient and homeless people must feel daily, and it made me appreciate the stability that I have in my life. I’ve lived in the same house for more than 20 years, and that has been a great advantage both during hard times and good. I’m sure a case could be made for having left this house over the years in search of better opportunities, and perhaps Bonnie and I are both pussies for not taking more risks and being more adventurous, but I think staying put all these years was probably the right move.

One of the benefits of living in the same place for almost half your life is the predictability that comes with the familiarity of your surroundings. I know what the weather will be like any given week throughout the year. I know when I can expect my street to be paved, where to look to see a SpaceX rocket pop up above the horizon, and where the sun will set throughout the year. There’s a comfort in knowing what to expect. Just ask anyone with money in the stock market right now. Another benefit of predictability is that when something unpredictable happens, you notice it right away.

This year, when the yard woke up from its winter nap and the plants, both wanted and unwanted, sprouted, I noticed something unusual. Something has been eating one of the weeds that is prolific around here and the Nasturtium that we planted several years ago because it repels insects. I’ve never seen anything go to town on either one of those plants. It must be something new to my yard, but what could it be? The last time we had a new bug was when those fucking aedes aegyptai mosquitos arrived.

I’ve been at war from April through October for the past five years, but I’ve been on this land five times longer than that, so I know how to defend it, and I’m prepared to do so.