Went to Santa Cruz for spiritual talk on Saturday, spent the night, breakfast on the pier, cruised the downtown markets. On Sunday stopped in Oakland to visit an old friend on the way home. Got home Sunday night and had the one of the worst nights in this 3 year adventure. The next morning felt like I had swam 5 miles. Very weak and tired. Rested on Monday.
Tuesday I was going to move the RV to an RV park in the area, but was too weak. Wednesday I ran errands in Paradise and for some reason decided to get the tires rotated on the truck. I am planning on selling it anyway and seldom rotated the tires even when I kept my rigs. After they did the tire rotation at the shop, they backed it out and basically the front end fell off the thing. If I’d driven it away and especially tried to move the rv, I would sooooo have been killed. The repair is only going to be a few hundred dollars and should be done today, Friday.
Then the folks who bought the land called and said they wanted to buy the RV too! Another good reason not to move it. I’d put off calling the RV park that I’d scoped out to rent the space for a month and couldn’t figure out why I’d kept putting it off.
Then there was the 60 year old man at the tire place who started talking to me out of the blue about his daughter’s death from cancer. After a bit, he asked me if I knew what stage 4 cancer was and I told him that I did and why. After our 5 minute conversation, he was in tears and rose to hug me as I left.
The little egoic me wants to be frightened that I now don’t have land or an RV. It wants a home. Given all that’s happened, I don’t know why god wouldn’t supply me with one, but I’m open to whatever develops. Maybe there’s some other plan. As if I’m in charge, huh? Isn’t it pretty obvious that we’re not?