I don’t think I can do this anymore. Unless I get deported from Mexico, I think this could be my final stop.

I’ve got a great place to live in a great town surrounded by nice people. And I am finally at that point in my life where I can appreciate everything for what it is. As I’ve so often told my daughter, ‘the only thing better than being happy is knowing that you are happy.’

And just like possessions and other things like travel; I can finally say enough is enough.

I am writing this tired. Tired to the bone. So maybe I’ll feel different in the morning. But I doubt it. I struggled with this latest move. The fault is totally on me. Using two recycled plastic shopping bags as a moving vehicle is insane.

In spite of the minimalist that I’ve become over the years, I still managed to accumulate things. I am still managing a wardrobe of sandals, shorts (4 pair) and t-shirts (6 each). But through both fetish and development I’ve somehow acquired something like 40 pairs of sandals. That’s a whole lot of shopping bags my friend.

But I figured what the hell. Five blocks. How long can that take? Still, with the requisite kitchen stuff, assorted tools, boxes of leather parts, rolls of whole skins, two work tables, a full size computer workstation, books, and the other usual detritus; it took five times longer than I thought.

Five blocks. Five lousy blocks. Without question the shortest move in what turns out to be just the latest in a long history of moves.

So get this. As a child I moved something like fifteen times with my parents. Then it was a half dozen to a dozen independent moves – poverty does that – before it was off to university in Marquette where I lived first in the dorm, then a cabin, then two different houses before doing a 6 week tour of Europe before returning for a brief summer stay in Michigan – living out of my Chevy van on the beach before we were off to Texas.

In Texas it was two different apartments until we saved enough money to buy our first house.

Then California. Three houses.

And let’s feather in some business travel. Eighteen months of living out of a suitcase while on loan to Intel Sales and Marketing building out 25 new sales offices across the US and Canada. That meant 4 trips each to every major metropolitan area in the US where Intel had consolidated it sales and marketing enterprise. I was in and out of airports on the average of every three days where the flying time I think added up to something like 200,000 actual air miles.

Then they asked me to do Brazil. Then Mexico. Then Colombia. All requiring four trips each.

I was gone so often to so many weird places that my neighbor – a military air and sea rescue pilot – told me that I fit the perfect profile of a spy.

Next came Asia. In seven years I crossed the Pacific 46 times staying anywhere from a week or ten days to two months. Japan, Korea, both China’s, Thailand, India, Malaysia, Australia, Singapore, the Philippines, Cambodia, and Indonesia.

After months and months of living in a great hotel in Singapore, the company finally got me an apartment. And at some point I had hooked up with the manufacturing arm of Intel and they put me to work too. So there was all the inter-Asia travel on top of the trans-Pacific stuff.

And it was all so extreme that one time it took me almost three months to submit an expense report. Thirty-one thousand bucks and change. The expense report with accompanying receipts was as thick as the old Dallas phone book. When my boss saw it he looked across his desk, grimaced, and told me in no uncertain terms to never wait three months again. (I was told the women in the finance group passed it back and forth for a week like it was a hot potato before finally giving it to the new hire to process). Apart from the executive team, I would imagine that one expense report still stands as a record.

And so it was I finally burnt out. Then it was North Carolina for a long rest. One house, five years. Then Washington, DC. Two apartments downtown which was broken up by a one year house-sitting stint for a good buddy of mine at his suburban place just across the Potomac in Alexandria.

Now Mexico.

And if I can just keep myself from getting deported I think I am home to stay.

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