The kinda-sorta-maybe quasi homeless editor will return home Tuesday.
My landlord tracked down a furnace -- one that won't leak carbon monoxide into my home -- and it is to be installed Tuesday morning.
That will be nice, even though home isn't so much home yet. My kid and I have mattresses on the floor and two plastic lawn chair, the latter of which we sit in while she teaches me about hegemony. (P.S.: It has nothing to with hedgehogs.)
Before I get my stuff, the place is more house than home.
And then kid visits -- that will be home.
Without stuff, a house is still better than even a nice hotel room. The few things I have are mine and I have things my way all the time. Particularly the cheap frozen pizza overcooked at the right temperature. Although I grew up on Tombstones -- created in nearby New Auburn -- I came to love Jack's frozen pizza because in college, a grocery story on Water Street would once a month sell 10 pizzas for $10. That would be a college student special.
I appreciate what my landlord has done for me, perhaps saving my life and reimbursing me for hotel costs.
All of my wonderful friends in town have listened calmly while I shared my story and then, after I left, pulled out a can of air freshener -- I am used to that.
Peace and home and family and friends unto all of you my brothers and sisters.