Home bases take different looks.

They can be hotel rooms, bungalows, RV’s, tents, apartments, houses, townhouses.They can be overlooking the Atlantic in Uruguay, lost in the Andes, on Caribbean shores with palms and yachts, standing on stilts in a Louisiana bayou.

Scott’s newest home base is a townhouse in Albuquerque, the ” breaking bad” city with the numbers 305.

In view of the Sandia Mountains,my landscaping is very low maintenance. The two car garage has room for storage. There is an extra bedroom and bath for guests. Covenants prohibit inoperable cars parked at the curb, red front doors, loud parties, Pets are allowed and H.O.A. fees are a couple hundred a year. There is no clubhouse, golf course, swimming pool, or security gate.

There is nothing eternal about a home base. Plains Indians used to drag their homes behind them to the next camp, following herds of buffalo so thick you could walk on their backs.

Living out of a suitcase, as liberating as it seems, is never as free as it appears.

Now, I hang the key to my drawbridge by my coffee maker on the kitchen counter.

My modest castle has all the room I need, safe and sound, quiet and convenient.

Why I’m getting ready for another trip is a question I can’t answer with one post.




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