Start sorting treasures
Everyone needs a dream. Proof: someone in proximity just told the world that the “dream of a clean house” is check and mate over everything else in the game. My own dreams are not as practical, but I’m not giving up on them, just yet.
With employment and children, the rash dreams were set aside years ago. No “leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back” plans to get me through to the next weekend. Ditto on the big career changes. I am on the other side of the fence, looking at 2500 days before freedom from a clock. It seems to be a large number, but the reality is that very few of those days will actually be under my control. Let’s say one in a hundred. That means that I actually have a little over three weeks to get all the pins in a row, if you follow the logic. What I do in the next chapter of my life will require some planning.
Tonight, we (as in both of us at the table busily reading random blogs) came across a tale that inspires. Two other people have undertaken what we’ve been dreaming about; buy an old house in rural PEI and prepare to face the winters in comfort. Not rich comfort, but something not so different from the time of my ancestors. Heating without fossil fuels. Cooking with real vegetables. Pursuing interests (something like hobbies, but more day-to-day).
I’ve gathered a decent portfolio of interests, so there’s no fear of getting bored. In fact, my proposed interests are part of the reason for someone else wanting a “clean house”. Junk for some, treasure for others. Imagine a world where I can put music into focus, use my eyes to see, even try to make the world a better place. Books will always be there, and if the copies are too worn to read again (although I rarely re-read on purpose), then they can be added to the firefeeding box.
It’s late. Tomorrow I can start sorting treasures into piles.
