Nomad

I don't know how people survived without laptops. When I work at home (or when I'm supposed to be working and play on the internet instead), I move myself all over the apartment like a crazy nomad. I have to have a change of scenery, even if it's from my bed to the kitchen table or from my desk to my futon. I find myself dragging my computer charger and stereos to different outlets, crossing and uncrossing my legs, and switching from my ipod to speakers every couple hours or so, only because I need a change.

I worry that it's the same with my life. Ever since college I've been in limbo. I lived in transition between a squished square in Nebraska that called itself a dorm room to a bedroom in Colorado. Not long after I made memories in a good-sized basement apartment in Nebraska and began my basement dwelling record-breaking, as my friend Brooke likes to say. After I was married I moved to Reno, where we lived in an apartment (second floor) for seven months. We moved to another apartment (first floor) and lived there for a year. Now we live in another basement apartment in London, and I find myself unable to stop worrying about our next move. I worry that the next place we live I'll be bored again. I'll get restless and the next year we'll find ourselves in yet another basement apartment in some random city. And on and on and on with the moving and the restlessness and the anticipating something better. Will it ever stop?

Honestly? Probably won't stop till heaven. But setting that aside, I know there are people who somehow find themselves content in every situation, comfortable with a secure life or a scary life--sorta like Bible Paul. I wish that could be me.