As of now, June 18th at 11:17 pm, I have no place to lay my stuff in a week and a half. And I'm not really freaking out. It's intriguing. I have a place to lay my head and have lots of tiny leads on where I can lay my stuff (ok, so I'm going to rent a storage unit tomorrow after summer school). But seriously. It feels as though this should bother me more than it does. I think I'm just burnt out on the whole "home searching gig." Seriously - how long and how much effort should finding a nice place to live really take? Apparently quite a while if you teach at a Catholic school that you love but live just above the poverty line so that you don't qualify for the really nice housing available to low-income families.
End of rant, I apologize. I'm attempting to trust God that I will find some amazing place in which to lay my stuff, my head and call home - very soon. And in the mean time, I plan to beg, borrow . . . and really, that's all one needs to do!
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