RevDrMartian
Member
Well, a truck-dweller.
Mother is losing her shit and father is also upset. Now, the worst part about this is that they found out through a third party rather than through me.
I am very, very tired of the rat race and giving most of my paycheck to a landlord for the privilege of living under their rules in a shoddy establishment. A while ago I found this place and the gears started turning in my head and I started giving closer examination to my Explorer in terms of living arrangements that would reduce my cost of living from ~$800 a month to just $300 a month, food and gym membership included. After a couple months of percolating on it, I decided to go ahead with the plan. I've given away most of my meager belongings to goodwill, shipped off the valuable family history books and heirlooms to my brother, and sorted out what I have left into an amount that can fit into two totes and a duffle bag. Things are looking great- by this time next week I'll be rent-free, working my part-time job, saving money, and bettering myself by being at the gym everyday (they have a sauna and showers, and I might as well work out for an hour or two at the same time, yeah?) As well as the library and a number of other activities that will get me out and about and actually being alive.
See, I'm a hermit. I don't like being around people and I don't like talking, which of course means that if I have a hole to hide in, I will hide in it. I haven't left my apartment in ten years for any reason other than work or shopping for food, and I know this is not good for me. Hence, truck dwelling will force me to have to get outside and do more things rather than sit inside and stare at a screen and steadily grow fatter and fatter.
I'm not telling you guys anything new- you know this.
But how does one explain to a distraught mother than this is the case, and not the way she is thinking of it, which I am pretty sure is being imagined as me living in squallor under a bridge, smoking crack and getting into knife fights over half-empty listerine bottles.
I could use some advice for this.
Also, I am 33, which makes her panic feel all the more irritating.
Mother is losing her shit and father is also upset. Now, the worst part about this is that they found out through a third party rather than through me.
I am very, very tired of the rat race and giving most of my paycheck to a landlord for the privilege of living under their rules in a shoddy establishment. A while ago I found this place and the gears started turning in my head and I started giving closer examination to my Explorer in terms of living arrangements that would reduce my cost of living from ~$800 a month to just $300 a month, food and gym membership included. After a couple months of percolating on it, I decided to go ahead with the plan. I've given away most of my meager belongings to goodwill, shipped off the valuable family history books and heirlooms to my brother, and sorted out what I have left into an amount that can fit into two totes and a duffle bag. Things are looking great- by this time next week I'll be rent-free, working my part-time job, saving money, and bettering myself by being at the gym everyday (they have a sauna and showers, and I might as well work out for an hour or two at the same time, yeah?) As well as the library and a number of other activities that will get me out and about and actually being alive.
See, I'm a hermit. I don't like being around people and I don't like talking, which of course means that if I have a hole to hide in, I will hide in it. I haven't left my apartment in ten years for any reason other than work or shopping for food, and I know this is not good for me. Hence, truck dwelling will force me to have to get outside and do more things rather than sit inside and stare at a screen and steadily grow fatter and fatter.
I'm not telling you guys anything new- you know this.
But how does one explain to a distraught mother than this is the case, and not the way she is thinking of it, which I am pretty sure is being imagined as me living in squallor under a bridge, smoking crack and getting into knife fights over half-empty listerine bottles.
I could use some advice for this.
Also, I am 33, which makes her panic feel all the more irritating.