Today is a "moving" day, which means that I'm moving from one furnished rental to the next. It's not like when you introduce yourself to a new place with the boxes and little things that you slowly take over; it's more like checking out of one hotel and into the next.

There's always a moment of disconnect for me; where I've left behind the last place, but haven't gotten to the new one. It's a moment of not belonging to anything, anywhere. It's both liberating and disturbing at the same time. I feel a sense of abandon when I hand over the keys to one place and get in my car to drive to the other, like I've just agreed not to be tied down to anything, tethered to anyone.

The last place that I stayed was in a building that I'd lived in before and so it was strange and at the same time familiar living there. When i arrived, I thought that I was glad that I wouldn't be there for long and now that I've left, I feel that I could have stayed a little longer.

I've always wanted the gypsy life, but when I imagined it, it was with someone. For eight years we plotted an adventure together, but recently we went our separate ways and so I'm doing it alone. Instead of it being in one forward direction, it's been back and forth, settling the legality of ending a marriage, dividing possessions, returning to the scene of the crime to hash out who and when and why, and what next.

Adventure rarely comes when you've plotted for it. It doesn't wait for a clear day to begin and it's rarely the way that you imagined it. But that's what makes it an adventure, isn't it?