A month ago my boss and his wife went on a sojourn to Europe, and asked me to look after their house. I’ve stayed at their place before to dog sit - their adorable dogs Oscar & Felix are routinely referred to as my boyfriends - but never for more than a weekend. Now, you all know how much I love my own apartment, but I decided that this would be a fun experiment to see if I could handle living out of a suitcase (and away from my computer, books, regular food, and bed) for a month. After all, everyone else seems to be going on vacation, and this is the closest I was going to get for the near future.
So I packed my Louis Vuitton mini-backpack and hopped a bus from Cathedral to Lake View. (Okay, so I took a suitcase full of carefully coordinated outfits as well. What, did you really think that I wake up looking this fabulous and coordinated?)
The first night was fabulous. Cable tv, coordinated sheets, amazing shower pressure, a stash of Northlanders graphic novels on the table (the boss is a comic book junkie too), and a case of Coke Classic in the fridge. As a treat I also ordered pizza - which is a rarity for me, since I normally make it from scratch.
Day two was equally as wonderful. Walks in the neighbourhood park, reading in the yard, and seemingly endless episodes of Island Hunters, House Hunters International, and Property Virgins. Clearly I was developing an addiction to HGTV and being talked into the idea of buying a house (or an island).
And let me tell, you I absolutely loved it.
Until I hit day three. The pizza had run out and I was starting to feel an acute case of ennui. Apparently there is such a thing as too much of the same thing - even when it’s a new thing.
So I went home (it was a long weekend). I spent the day catching up on my RSS-reading list, watching episodes of Orange is the New Black, and planning more outfits. And when I was done all that I packed up a bunch of my regular food and hopped on the Southbound bus feeling energized and ready for another volume of Northlanders.
As I fell asleep that night on borrowed sheets I came to a stunning realization. You can be bored anywhere if you don’t have the drive or motivation to do anything else. So with that in mind, I spent the merry month of May taking many many buses between two houses, grocery shopping every few days instead of once a week, and making an effort to try new things.
Some of these things (like experimental pasta recipes) were not a success, but I proved to myself that I can live a slightly nomadic life. I don’t think that I could pack up my life into a suitcase (girl’s got too many shoes for that, right), but I can throw a little chaos into my life without feeling too thunderstruck.