Who says you can't take it with you?
Yes, seeing is believing--seven years worth of a life in Bali headed down the road.
What's that? Oh. No. I'm not goin' anywhere. Just this stuff. And my wife.
Well, but, to be honest, it has been a pretty gradual thing, something that has been happening over a couple of years. No drama, no shouting or screaming or throwing of plates. Just waiting for the proper ducks to line up.
Not my decision, mind you--but given my poor health, and my poverty, the logic of the decision is not lost on me. I suppose the worst thing about being unwell, for me, anyway, is for the unwell-ness to be a burden on anyone else.
So, she is bound for a villa with pool, God bless her, and our old little house is now my little house. Well, and the big fat brown dog's little house. Depending, that is, upon what the owner decides come February. Frankly, I hope to stay, because it's cozy here and familiar and because I'm lazy. And because someone needs to be here to feed the big fat brown dog.
Time will tell.
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