I do what I do because it's what I do.

I can literally feel myself getting stupider from being around television and the interwebs.
And by stupid I mean fragmented, ADD (yes, used here as a verb), and generally glazed over.

This is what it must be like to learn how to live with a crack addiction.

So, I've been couch surfing for more than three months now. Some would say that is a long time. It's been long enough that I can say I'm comfortable living out of a carry-on sized suitcase, my trunk and on my friends' generosity. I would like to claim I'm comfortable with instability, but I have to admit I actually waxed sentimental when I washed glasses by hand today. It may have been the wine, but the feeling of soap and warm water against glass- that squeaky sound it makes- gave me a sense of satisfaction I haven't felt in a while. That's probably the most intimate detail I'm willing to share in this post.

For a while, the finer things in life were the little luxuries I didn't travel with: nail clippers, lotion, miscellaneous body care products. And although there is still nothing like having freshly cut nails after enduring for days, waiting to run across a pair, I am desirous of more.

It is still enjoyable to watch the things I need just appear. Open a cabinet and I may satisfy an itch I have needed to scratch for days: q-tips, facial toner, contact solution, or, in the kitchen, freshly baked brownies, fresh fruits and veggies, soy milk, organic yogurt.

Let me tell you, I get the most entertainment from guys' houses. Open the pantry and find three year old cans of beans, two cans of tuna and some moldy bread. A fridge full of condiments. In the bathroom, I feel I am earning my keep by putting the toilet paper on the roll and washing my toothpaste down the sink. I get a kick out of using body-wash/shampoo/conditioner/aftershave-in-one, though it makes later body care product finds even more special. I ate a six month old bagel last week, merely because I couldn't read the expiry date. Laughter, always laughter.

This week its sunburns, sixteen pound watermelons and steaks. Sore legs and six hour drives. And of course, the World Cup.