It was another cold morning at the shopping center. Ferret and I sat drinking coffee and people watching. Ferret told me this morning that he was going to be homeless again. He said it so matter-of-factly that I didn't quite know how to take it.
"They're foreclosing on my crackhead landlord's house," he said as if it was just a passing thought.
"What about the apartments up the street?" I asked, worried. "Surely, you can rent one of those."
"Those places are a dump," Ferret replied huffily. "Besides, I kind of like being homeless. I have more money for beer."
I started to make a mental list of what Ferret needed. He needs a new tent and a much warmer sleeping bag. Luckily, the dreaded Wal-Mart has those items. He also needs some heavier clothes, gloves, and a warm coat. I was worried about the cold more than anything. If the long range computer weather models pan out, then its going to be a cold winter.
"You going to come drink some beer with me at my campsite?" Ferret then asked.
"I'll come and visit you, but I am not drinking beer."
Ferret laughed heartily. He loves to pick at me about my sobriety. I don't think he can imagine living without his daily dose of alcohol.
I was also surprised at how Ferret was taking this. He doesn't seem concerned at all. I think Ferret suffers from that same deluded reality as I. We can't think of the future or get a grasp on future events. We live only for the moment. It should be a psychiatric diagnosis in it's own right, existential psychosis.