I celebrate that my part is done.

Literally, what I need to do here is make a plan. I've been feeling a little mopey-dopey, which gets magnified when I type. I don't like to brag, but I have a few things together, and I'd like to take that show on the road.

The story is always the same. Balance. On one hand the van, on the other hand money.

I want the van to be incredibly ready, which means more ready than it is right now. Solar panels and a little more wood. Some better wires, and soon I'll be ready. I have to learn, purchase, drill, cuss, and wonder. I've been there before, I can do that again. I need to close my eyes and jump. That's what my brain manual says.

I am not as confident as I'd like to be that I can make money on the road, though this worry will probably be assuaged once I try and succeed well enough.

I need places to go! I need some warmer places arranged in a line, where I can weave though while working and meeting people too. Maybe that's a tall order. People don't meet people anymore. How does that work? If I start talking to somebody, they will think I'm insane. I can't even guarantee they are wrong. I'm positive of nothing. I'm making this up as I go. I'll try to meet insane people.

Before leaving, I was going to work a little harder, to line up more income after I leave. That's a good idea, but it might also be an excuse to drag my feet, which is what I'm telling myself not to do.

Today was good. I filled my van with enough boxes to surprise a guy at the shipping store. The sheer weight and volume of the boxes of books made them anxious to see the end. The industrial handtruck was loaded to the hilt, as I marched back and forth from the van to the store. They were sick of me by the time I was finished, and I've been sick of that place from the start: they have frowns and passive aggressive signs. If they don't like boxes, they should start selling cupcakes, and leave the lifting to real men like me. Every so often, I man up, and I find great pleasure in trying to bury that place in fifty-pound boxes of bricks. Oh, how they frown, and oh how I smile, and I celebrate that my part is done.