Home. Sigh. As you know, a place to hang your hat is not necessarily a home. And I’d solemnly abjure, deny, or recant any youthful statements made in my twenties about living in New Mexico. It is a nice place to have a second home. But I am a coastal boy. Being so far inland that most people wouldn’t know the difference between a stockless anchor and a sea anchor might make me stay up sleepless at night.
I’ve often expressed my wish to return to coastal Maine. But I already live in a locale that requires a whole squad of snow removers to make my walkway and drive clear. And I’m not so young anymore that I relish clearing it all by myself. Besides, I’d have to regrow my mustache to keep my lips warm. I’ve become fond of seeing my upper lip in the mirror, and I’m not sure I want to hide it again.
So I guess I’m not ready to relocate…
But the idea of toying with a few new locations appeals; let’s see, it can’t be too hot, not too much snow, no whack job politicians, no weird climate change, that’s good for starters.
Well, I guess I just exploded the myth of there being a perfect place for everyone. I’m off to the carving shop. Oh, that’s right, I need a lovely large shop for carving – no basement!
I’m not fussy.