Hermit Crab

I have to admit there is a lot more traffic on my road than there was 13 years ago when I moved out here.  There might be as many as six or seven cars driving by on a Saturday, (including the same vehicles coming back the other way).  Despite the likelihood that someone was going to see me and wonder what in the hell I was doing now, I hauled my canvas lawn chair up to the foundation of the new house and spent some time doing nothing.  I sat in the chair with my eyes closed and soaked up the warm sunlight.  From the road, it had to look silly because it looked silly up close.  Wally and Ginger stared at me from the fence.  

There is a great energy around the new house.  It already feels like home.  I might be a little bit like a human hermit crab.  I outgrow places, easily tire of their energy, and during all the years I rented, I tired of the landlords.  Five years was the limit before, often much less.  The longest I have ever lived anywhere in my entire life is the 13 years I have lived in Tornado Fodder Cabin (aptly named by Cyberkit).  I think my focus has been toward the new house for so long that the purposeful energy which sustains a person's home has left my current shack er, ah house, and already infuses the new home.  The new house already exists, I just haven't yet caught up to it in time. 

I am greatly looking forward to moving into a house where no one else has ever lived before.  No other's bad energy, smells, grease, or catastrophic decorating choices.  No great disappointments or tragedy permeating the structure, and certainly no ghosts left to bedevil me.  A fresh start in life.  I think I know exactly how a hermit crab feels when she finds the perfect new shell.