One Long Shortcut

Chapter 151: Mazes, Mood Boards, and Mild Delusion After checking out of the campground, I swung by our construction site and did a full double-take. The trenches that once looked like an archaeological dig site had been filled with concrete, and the whole place now resembled a very committed attempt at building a human-sized maze. So, I decided to walk it. This felt like a big upgrade. Previously, I hovered at the edges like a nervous bystander, worried I’d fall into a trench and have to make the world’s most embarrassing phone call: “Hi yes, I fell into my own future living room.” But now, with the concrete footings in place, I treated them like walkways. Five minutes later I was completely disoriented, standing somewhere between “future kitchen” and “maybe bathroom?” with no idea how I got there.  The afternoon was dedicated to being a serious adult: paint swatches and wallpaper samples. I laid them all out in the van like I was about to solve a crime. Except all the clues lo...

Chapter 149: Groceries and Great Expectations This was one of those “nothing is happening but everything is happening” weeks. We were in a holding pattern, counting down to a 4-day long weekend like kids before summer break, except instead of packing swimsuits I was doing advanced-level grocery math. Enough food to survive the weekend, not so much that the food turns into 'The Last of Us' in the fridge while we’re gone.  Meanwhile, “our land” has officially graduated to “our construction site,” because it no longer resembles land. It’s now a maze of trenches, rebar cages, and things that look important enough that I nod seriously when I see them. Footings, apparently. Structural. Foundational. Very adult. There’s even a water meter now, which feels like progress, although I still don’t know where the actual water part is. The rest of the week was a mix of small wins and mild chaos. I made Taiwanese pork chop using a crab hammer because my actual meat tenderizer is buried some...

Chapter 147: False Spring, Real Delusion Northwest Arkansas decided to play a joke on everyone: give us a few perfect spring days, then slam us right back into a freeze like “just kidding.” Even the plants at Tractor Supply looked offended. Rows of sad, wilted “spring herbs” sat there looking betrayed. (I feel you brothers and sisters) But right next to them? Chicks. Ducklings. Actual tiny, fluffy, peeping distractions. I spent an unreasonable amount of time staring into those metal tubs, trying to figure out who was a chick and who was a duckling like I was being tested. Then I wandered over to the seed section and immediately became a different person. Suddenly I was a future gardener with a straw hat, gently harvesting tomatoes and herbs like I have my life together. Never mind that I currently live in a van and don't always know where my tomatoes are.   It’s a weird in-between phase... half nomad, half “can’t wait for my house to exist so I can buy throw pillows without...