I suppose you were expecting one of those hippie yippie funky chicken modern titles, eh? Well the hell with ya! This one'll do just fine.

Introspection done. Now I'm into full on obsession. Want a house. Need a house. Must have a house. What did you do today? Looked at houses! What are you doing on the internet? Researching houses! What's for lunch? Houses!

I'm looking forward to having a foundation again. To not having to leave the taps running half the winter so the pipes don't freeze. To not swaying in strong breezes.

And here's something I never thought I'd say: I'm looking forward to having the option of public transportation again. Cars are mighty emblems of freedom only as they whisk you away down highways to distant lands. In the city they're just big, awkward dependents whose needs and expenses must come before your own.

"You're going out to eat? But where will you put me? No no no! Don't you dare leave me on the street! You won't be done eating before the rush hour parking ban comes into effect - they'll take me away from you! Put me in that nice building over there. That one! The one just twenty blocks from the restaurant. Because the other ones are full. Well then take your fancy shmancy ooh-look-at-me-my-shoes-match-my-dress heels off, that's what the old emergency hiking boots in the trunk are for. You do have fourteen dollars in change handy, don't you? What's that? Oh boy! You mean it? Yay! Take-out again! I knew you'd change your mind!"

Seriously. You might as well rely on getting piggyback rides from teenagers for transportation as take a car downtown. I will still keep my car, though. For one thing my old dog's getting a little too bleary eyed for the whole fake-being-a-seeing-eye-dog-so-they-let-you-on-the-bus routine - my conviction to the method acting technique falters when I'm dragged into the path of moving vehicles - but he's still a fun travel partner when he isn't in charge of navigation. I just think it would be nice to be able to sneak off without the big metal need-machine occasionally.

Now I'm not necessarily sure I can get a house. Well, I'll amend that. I know I can get a house, I just don't know if I can get a house and still stay within my financial comfort zone. There are a few reasons I chose to live in a trailer, and while bloom has gone off many of those roses (and turned into venomous, barbed, bloodthirsty thorns) the fact that it's damned affordable living smells as sweetly as it ever did.

On the other hand, if I can work this whole getting a house thing the way I hope I can work this whole getting a house thing, there's a chance I can actually come ahead in the deal. Actually reduce my monthly expenses. I might only have a trailer, but I do have a very nice trailer, and it is in on a very, very nice lot in a very, very popular area.

And I do own it outright. That's the part that burns a bit. I couldn't own a house outright. Yeah, I'd be just as out on my fanny if I failed to pay my lot fees as if I failed to pay a mortgage of course, and of course money toward a mortgage is actually money toward owning something whereas money toward lot fees buys you nothing but limited time, but it still seems preferable to getting the bank involved. Why? Because under these boobs of mine there beats the grizzled heart of a stubborn old man who doesn't want some damn bank gettin' all messed up in my business dadgummit!

But grizzled old men don't like turning on the taps and having nothing come out when it's forty below either. They hate watching their homes relax into a nice comfortable slump every time the ground gets a bit damp too. They like good solid houses cemented into the ground the way nature intended! The kind of good quality craftsmanship you'd be proud to grow feeble and die in!

So yeah. I guess it's enough playtime in the little trailer now. Inner child satisfied. Time to let the inner old fart have a fun day.