It occurred to me recently that I am well on my way to being a crazy cat lady.
I have three (yes, THREE) cats. And my boyfriend has two. Which means if we were ever to live together, we would then have five (5) cats.
That seems... excessive.
The really bad thing about this? It wouldn't be the first time I've had five cats.
When I was in high school, I had this dream of being a crazy old lady living in the haunted house on the top of the hill. I had it pictured perfectly. Leaky roof, and rotten floorboards, and a thousand cats. I would know all of them by name. I would never cut or comb my hair, so it would be long, and gray, and fly-away. I would wear a bathrobe to the grocery store, and always get the squeaky cart. I would fill it with an eclectic variety of food along with all of the boxes of Cocoa Pebbles in the store, and then wander off and leave the cart by the pharmacy.
But you see, that was a joke. I didn't expect that I might actually live that life.
It is possible that my only escape is to become a hobo.
The more I think about it, the more appealing living my life ridin' the rails sounds. Let's break this down:
There is always this back and forth motion in my life regarding "working for a living". Work stresses me out, so I don't have the time or energy to do the things I would like to do, or paint or make art, or write a novel. But when I don't work, I get distracted by things like "eating" and "making rent", and I end up not making art, but daydreaming about food and elaborate schemes to eat all of the free samples in the store before they drag me away kicking and screaming. Even if I have enough food to start out, I don't have enough art supplies to actually make art or (gasp) try to sell it.
If I were a hobo, I could make my art with shoplifted spray paint on the sides of trains. My art would certainly be more noticeable than it is now.
Don't get me wrong. I love my car. I wanted my car when it was new, back in 1999. But because I tend to sabotage myself every few years by quitting whatever job I have and trying to "make it" as an artist, I have never trusted that I would be able to make car payments, so I never bought my dream car. Until a year ago. And I got my 1999 Audi A4. And I paid cash.
Yes, it has 124,900 miles on it. Yes, it has a tape deck. It's still my favoritest car EVER. The problem is that she is an expensive little bitch, and I had to shell out nearly a month's take-home wages to get her to pass emissions.
Sure, I couldn't afford that as a hobo, but then, I wouldn't have a car at all as a hobo. I would be riding trains or something. You spend less when you have less.
I would certainly save money by actually wearing out my jeans, instead of purchasing pre-stressed fashion jeans. And I would still fit in. Hell, I would even have my natural body odor as perfume, instead of purchasing expensive Au du Hobo at Urban Outfitters. For once in my life, I would be one of the cool kids.*
Diet and Fitness:
Here I am, day after day, trying to eat less and exercise more so that one day, I too, can be considered "hawt". I have never been.
If I were a hobo, not only would I get toned legs and abs from constant walking, running from store managers, and leaping on to moving trains, but I would have a very limited supply of food. I have a feeling that homelessness would be the Best. Diet. Ever. Even better than the flu.
I would be all Hawt Hobo.
The more I think about this, the better it sounds... I would probably even be better equipped to survive the inevitable zombie apocalypse...
Yeah. I totally want to be a hobo when I grow up.
Mom will be so proud.
*It turns out that Urban Outfitters doesn't actually sell a perfume called Au du Hobo. I was mistaken. They just sell patchouli oil, which smells like the same thing to me.