Lately I've been thinking that if my house sells, I'll just hit the road. Put my stuff in storage, buy a camper for my truck, and set out without a destination.

I'd have to do something with my cat. I really love my cat, but he hates riding in cars, and that would be no life for him. I have no idea what, though. I've nobody to give him to.

There's a lot to see out there: I could keep myself busy and distracted for quite a long time. And I seem to be best at short-term relationships anyway: people always like me, at first. The trick, I guess, is to leave again before they get a chance to change their minds. I could keep a backpack in the truck and stop for little hikes and things, here and there. Maybe do some kayaking or rafting; sailing in the Keys--whatever I feel like. Stop on a Sunday and visit a church now and then. See old friends scattered around the continent. Live in my truck most of the time; get a hotel when I'm sick of it. My only bills would be insurance and cell phone, and the storage rent: I have zero debt except for my mortgage. Hell, I could even drive to Mexico or South America. My money would go a long, long way down there, and with my linguistic skill I could pick up Spanish in six months.

And I could do some good in a small way, here and there. People always need someone to be kind to them. I could keep a stock of canned goods on hand, and some toiletries and blankets and things, and give them out to homeless people. Buy them a meal, talk a while. Help old ladies with their groceries. Drive to where there's been a hurricane or something with a truck full of water. Whatever.

Maybe I could even get some writing done, with my head out of this space. And if I get tired of it in a year or two, or five, then pick some place I've been that I like and come back here just long enough to put my things in a uhaul.