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The short bus is coming along nicely. I can’t wait to see it in action. It keeps triggering these visions of a veggie fueled caravan with a dedicated fuel pickup truck so the systems can be separate from the living quarters, and attached to a more maneuverable vehicle. Sadly, I don’t think I’d be able to convince enough people to dedicate the time and resources such a project demands. I’m not sure I could.

Census work plods onwards, though some of my enumerators are starting to jump ship. One greets me as I walk in the door with a smile and “I quit.” “OK, I just need you to write that down so they don’t have to take my word for it.” He begins to write, and after a moment shows me the note: ‘I quit.’ “Good, but you should probably date it.” A moment later: ‘I quit today.’ “Could you make it sound more official?” He thinks for a second, and sets to writing again. When my attention returns to the note he is holding out for me, I read, ‘I quit today, the first day of the six month of the two-thousand and tenth year of our lord.’ “Good, they’ll like that.”

I’m told there is another operation after this one, and I’m in a position to stay on board (or even advance). There is one sticking point of a week where I’ll be away at Grey Fox…I’m not sure whether that will be an issue or not. And I’m not sure about how long this current operation will go on for, and whether the short bus (henceforth referred to by its Christian name, Caesar Rodney) will set off before the Census decides that it is tired and going home. Joe Hollay has said that he will be onboard this time around, which is a huge incentive to get my ass on the bus. Or on my bus. Ass and bus must meet.

Prom, Jr.

I just got back from driving my neighbor and her friends to Junior Prom. In the bus. They thought it would be cool, and I agreed, so tonight they all piled in and we made the short trip to the restaurant that was hosting prom. As usual, the bus attracts a lot of attention, questions, and stares, but I can’t honestly say it had the desired effect of awesomeness. I don’t really know.

I skipped prom, both at X and MHS, and I don’t regret either. It’s not my thing, and I don’t really know how arriving in a bus would change it. Whatever. They seemed happy, and that’s what matters.

Also, note to self: renting out the bus may be a marvelous method for making money on the move.

Whine

The days are blurring together. I find most of my nights booked with something or another commanding my attention. And work is pure grind. Same thing, every day, I could do it in my sleep. And truth be told, I’d do it for years upon years. A small price to pay for freedom. Sadly, my Census stint will soon be up, and I’ll have to go back to crappy hours and crappy pay. Hopefully, a change of scenery will balance that out.

Dipper

The big dipper is in the wrong part of the sky. It’s far too high up, and should be nestled in the tops of the trees to the West. Something must be wrong. It always used to be there, like clockwork. Maybe I blinked.

No Sense in Census

Census job is looking pretty good. I’m officially in now, which wasn’t the case up until Thursday. I’m pretty sure this is the job I was born for, and I’m sad that it only comes along every ten years. I need to find out how to get involved in the stuff they do in the meantime (which apparently there is a lot of).

Also, it seems less likely than they made it seem that it will go over into the summer, so I may get to do Manhattan this summer after all. It’s the best of all worlds.

Developments

So. I just got a job offer from the Census. Interestingly enough, it’s the third one I’ve gotten since I’ve applied. Each successive offer has been for a better paying and more desirable position. The first was a clerical job, located in an office that was just too far away. The second job was the one I was gunning for, but my return trip to get the bus was a dealbreaker for them. This third job is close to home, and starts after I’m back with the bus. Marvelous!

However, it presents an interesting predicament. This job may very well last the entire summer, conflicting with my plans to live in NYC. If push comes to shove, this job will win. I can’t scoff at this money, since it will put me much closer (probably a year ahead of schedule) to getting my own place and unplugging. I am going to do New York at some point…it just may not be this summer. :(

Picky Eaters

I’ve long been pegged as a picky eater. The running joke is that if a food has more than three ingredients, I won’t like it. Often that’s true. I like to eat simple things. I eat oatmeal, salad, hamburgers, pizza, pasta, pancakes, all plain (or very nearly). I can be totally content with a piece of cheese or bread, but combining them decreases my enjoyment of both. My food preferences are something people always give me a hard time about.

I was recently introduced to the concept of overtasters and undertasters. I don’t know if either of these concepts are based on casual observation or actual research, but it seems intriguing to me. I certainly know people who like lots of flavours, salt, and spicy stuff in their food. I’m going to start pointedly reminding those people that they’re just as picky as me, only in the other extreme. They wouldn’t want to eat most of the dishes I eat – they tell me so – too bland for them. Who’s picky now? I’ll be over here enjoying my bread.

Garage

I spend most of my time out in the garage. I can be loud at all hours, and it doesn’t disturb anyone. It also means that each night I have to walk back from the garage to the house to go to sleep. It can’t be more than a hundred yards, and lasts under thirty seconds, but every time I take that walk I think about being somewhere else. I get to look up at the sky after staring at a page or a screen for hours. I’m pretty familiar with where the constellations sit above the trees at various times of the night. I’m probably at the point where I could ballpark the time just by looking up. I imagine that instead of walking to my house, that I have no destination, and I’m on the side of a road somewhere just as quiet as my neighborhood. And all there is to do is to walk until I feel like stopping.

Packages

Things I ordered have started showing up. My pack is here, along with two little trinkets that may help me on the road. More is on the way. I just need to make a penny stove and get my mess kit back from the bus, and I’ll be all set. I should have just about everything I’ll need to live out of my backpack in summer weather. It isn’t too hard to convert it to accommodate cool weather, but it cuts into the amount of food I’m able to carry.

I obsessively research gear before I buy it, and take cues from others who do the same. Tynan and Tim Ferriss both have good tips, but expensive taste. There is certainly gear where performance corresponds to price, but there is much that is simply unnecessary to splurge on. That’s kind of what my pack looks like now.

I go back and forth on some things, like a lighter, knife, and footwear. I can get decent lighters and knives for a couple bucks, and so far, I think that’s the best option. I might feel differently once I’m in a situation where I need more from my tools than they can give me, but until then, I’ll keep it cheap. Shoes are the item I go back and forth on the most. A cheap pair will do fine, but I would be far more comfortable and presentable in a more pricey pair. So far, I’m erring on the cheap side. We’ll see how that pans out.