I had a dream last night that I owned a tiny house. Inside I had painstakingly painted it so that it had the appearance of having fancy crown molding and even extra rooms. Somehow magically when you went inside it was bigger than it appeared outside. Some of the extra rooms were real. I was in search of a place to put my tiny house so I could live in it.
Today I woke up and realized I needed to charge my camera if I was going to be able to take pictures of wildflowers on the hike I was leading for the Sierra Club. I searched high and low for the camera charger but could not find it. I assumed it was probably with The Man's PCT things and attempted to look in his various boxes and bags all over the house. I couldn't find it, but just the process of looking for it angered The Man. I think I will go live with my mother or maybe live portably out in the forest for a while.
The Man embraces pain as the natural order of his life. Physical, psychic or whatever kind of pain. If there is pain in his life, he holds on to it tightly. I can't think that I am anything more than one more painful thing that he is hanging on to. I think it's time for me to go.
I agreed to lead the Sierra Club hike today for someone else who could not make it. The hike was to have an early start time, an hour earlier than usual. I went to the meeting place to wait and the first person there was an obviously mentally ill person. A few more people arrived and all of them thought the hike was a different one than was scheduled. That is because every time The Man makes up the schedule and sends it off to the newsletter to be printed, a bunch of the leaders will only then notice that the schedule isn't right and then they want changes. Because there are so many web sites that post the schedule, we who have web sites have been happily updating our copies of the schedule to keep up with the changes. The problem now becomes that almost every single time I lead a Sierra Club hike everybody assumes it is a different hike because they saw the printed schedule or they saw a schedule a few weeks ago and wrote it down or somehow or another they got confused. You can no longer trust the schedule. But then who gets blamed? The person who has the most popular web site (me) or the person leading the hike (me because I usually am the one who gets bumped around to accommodate other people's schedules.) I like to lead really strenuous hikes and then I get all these weak and wimpy people who have no water and are unprepared but since the hardest part of the hike is getting up on a weekend early to go to the meeting place, they come anyway and then complain that the hike is too hard. That's what happened to me today and it wasn't even my hike. I'm really tired of it.
The mentally ill guy was carrying a bag of a groceries but no backpack. He had a perpetual smile on his face. He sprayed himself often with perfume which ruined the hike for me because the whole outdoors smelled like cheap cologne instead of sage and fresh air. He smelled every bite of his food before he ate it. He had a half gallon of orange juice but no water and so he didn't drink anything on the hike and then got dehydrated. He plans to come on my hike again tomorrow. I told him that if he didn't have at least a half gallon of water tomorrow I would not let him come on my hike.
I drive a pick-up truck. It seats only one other than me. I had to give the mentally ill guy and his cloud of perfume a 40 minute ride to the trailhead. Trapped in the car with him and he never gave me any gas money. Tomorrow I'm riding my Vespa so that won't happen again. And when the schedule runs out, I'm quitting the Sierra Club because I'm tired of hanging out with people I wouldn't choose to spend my day with.
After the hike, which gratefully ended early because the road was closed on the way to the 15 mile strenuous hike we were going to do, I went to buy a door to replace the one the Big Bird chewed. A Big Bird lives in our house. She is an umbrella cockatoo. She used to live next door, her owner a mentally ill drug-addicted woman who got kicked out and became homeless. The poor bird was left behind, locked in her cage on the porch with several blankets covering the cage all day and night. I could not stand to look at that so I left a note that I would take care of the bird. They gratefully gave her to me. This has been a constant source of consternation for The Man. He didn't want the bird. Naturally the Big Bird took to him and she worships him like the Sun. He threatens now and then to give the bird back to her old owner. I hate to think of it, but what can I do? I do not own the bird technically. Anyway, I felt bad because the bird chewed a huge hole in the door when The Man and I were away at the Mexican Border starting his journey on the PCT. She had not been locked in her cage when we left. That should have been done.
But it matters little that the Big Bird chewing a hole was caused by The Man leaving her on purpose outside of her cage. It is my fault for bringing the Big Bird into the house to begin with. So I bought a door. A door costs only $25.
While I was out getting the door, I decided to buy a camera. The Man bought me a nice camera for Christmas. He said he did research and chose one of the better ones. Then he bought himself a crap camera like he always does and now he complains that his pictures come out horrible. Then he did research and found out that everybody who bought his same camera complains of horrible pictures, too. Why he can't give himself a nice camera I do not understand. So I bought myself the camera I really wanted, a smaller one that isn't as nice because I don't need such a nice camera to take good pictures, and I put my old camera with all its batteries and wires and things into his bounce bucket where hopefully he will find it someday when he's searching for his camera battery charger.
Now I'm on my way to the thrift store to get rid of 3/4 a truckload of old clothes and shoes. I'm finally getting around to getting rid of all the shoes I outgrew after the PCT. I've got bags and bags of them. Bags and bags of clothes too. I have a tendency to thrift store shop and then my wardrobe gets too full and I have to pare back again. It'll be nice to have finally made some progress toward reducing the number of things I own.
Now, if I could figure out how to store my remaining things so that I can live in the forest and not have my cast iron sewing machine rust to crap or my remaining Little Funny Bird die or exposure or loneliness, everything will work out well. I could live portably, shower with my Pocket Shower, go to work each day and save all my money so that one day I can just hike and hike and hike. I was reading on Whiteblaze that there's a new trail in Utah and when it's completed you could theoretically hike for a year and a half continuously. Anyway, I'm on my way to living my tiny house life one way or another I guess. A hermit in the making, fed up with people.