I’ve been able to resist the urge to buy a house for my whole life. Frankly, I have no urge to buy one right now in the traditional sense, but that ain’t stoppin’ me. George Carlin makes a pretty good pitch that a house isn’t for you; it’s for your stuff. The only reason people buy a new one is because they have more stuff.
I think he’s right.
Right now, I have stuff that I can’t even find.
I don’t have a lot of other reasons to buy one. As a matter of fact, I used to keep only as much stuff as you can fit in two trips with a Volkswagon beatle – the old kind not the spacious new beatle with a damn trunk. Trust me, (or don’t – I don’t care) that ain’t a lot of room. The only reason I say two trips was because I needed one entire trip for my tuba, bass guitar and amplifier.
I had no bed, just a sleeping bag and a pillow. And it worked for me. When I wanted to kill time, I mutilated ants with a magnifying glass until I lost it. Then I turned my attention to sharpening a stick on the pavement. Oh, those were simpler times.
I pine for that now. In these what I call ‘bed times’, I need a bona fide truck in which to fit my stuff. George Carlin you are one insightful sarcastic bastard.
annoyed