When Tom decided he was too sick to go out park scouting today and needed another day of rest so he’d be able to work tomorrow I said, “Why is it that it’s getting more obvious to me that something up there doesn’t want us moving? Why don’t we just say ‘fuck it’ and get on with our lives in someone else’s tiny old dump like we’ve been doing for the last 4 years and 4 months now.”

“If anything, something’s trying to stop us from making a poor decision,” he said.

“That’ll be a first,” I said.

Tom went on to explain that worst-case scenario, the delay gains us another paycheck and pulls us into the range of what we want. As of yet, we’ve been looking at mostly single-wides, but now we’re entering the doublewide zone, which is more of what we want. Yes, I’d rather own a single-wide on a lot that rents for half this place, than rent this place for twice the cost, but I’d REALLY rather have sufficient space for once! We’ve been living in tiny places since 2005. Enough is enough already! Since nothing’s perfect, I’d rather go back to having more space than we need and complaining about how long it takes just to vacuum, than to have to cram 20 objects into each precious square foot of space we have here.

I don’t want to get my hopes up, though. Yes, I know the longer the move takes the more money we save, but nothing up there has ever prevented us from making poor judgment calls before. Unless Dad can step in and help guide us now that he’s gone, nothing else will care to do so if our common sense and research alone aren’t enough to do the trick.