but I've been thinking a lot about how charming and lovely it may be to run a little bed and breakfast in the south of France. Not right now, obviously. I mean first of all, I know extremely little about the south of France other than that it's on the Mediterranean. Also, I know extremely little about running a bed and breakfast other than that I'd need someplace to put some beds and make breakfast... It certainly wouldn't be meant as a career, but maybe as a way to supplement my writing income since I've yet again chosen a path where the majority of people fall off into oblivion rather than a nice easy route to a proper job that provides a life-sustaining income.
Then again, I've also wanted to be a lawyer, a forest fire-fighter, an actor, etc, etc, etc.
I think it mostly stems from the idea of actually having a place to call home. It's very disconcerting to be yet again living out of a suitcase with all of my stuff in various boxes stashed in various closets and garages around the world. I guess I always figured that by my early thirties I'd kind of have things sorted out, and feel more like an adult. Instead, I think I feel like more of a confused kid right now than I've done since I first crossed that stage in the UofG arena so many moons ago.
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