My support group yesterday was a complete washout. I and Rosa locked up, left, and then I drove by Philip's house to hand him the keys to the A.A. meeting hall.
"You sure you don't want to keep trying?" Philip asked me standing at his backdoor.
"I know when to fold," I said using George's often used poker reference.
Rosa was pouting with me as we drove home.
"It's not like you to give up," she said.
"Rosa, sweetheart, I just don't have it in me," I replied. "There are NAMI meetings down in Auburn people can go to."
Earlier in the afternoon, I went scouting for places to try an urban homelessness experiment. To the right is a picture of the place I am going to camp once I get settled in my new home. It is behind that grand old abandoned cotton mill next to the railroad tracks in a very deserted and isolated area. I was excitedly telling Rosa about it. It is going to be a grand adventure.
"Why?" Rosa asked of my planned adventure.
"Cause it will be fun," I replied.
"I can think of a thousand more fun things to do than to play homeless," Rosa said.
I laughed. She just doesn't understand my zeal for camping and urban camping will be a novel experience. I didn't tell her of my living in my car for a few weeks last summer. I'm sure I would have been chided.