Last week's heatwave presented a stark reminder that living in a van in Texas and summer do not mix. I got lucky last year where a 12V fan worked.
I didn't in mid-May this year.
I survived by crashing in a friend's garage. But this is not a permanent solution and would be an undue burden on a friend who's gone out of his way to help me.
A new Really Bad Idea™ has appeared, an HR employee in Colorado who's entertaining me moving in. Details as to why are inappropriate for Beehaw, but this would place me back in the stepdad situation I escaped in 2016.
The thing is, if it's that or death after exhausting local options ... well, that's how I met my second wife in the first place.
She still wears my wedding collar despite the 2016 divorce, and this new woman has essentially proposed two days in ("Is it bad that I'm already thinking about being your wife?").
Over the past three months, I've gotten offers of not just cohabitation but just helping get trash out of the van, which suffers from the problem of too much trash to drive to get rid of it and therefore being able to be driven to get rid of the trash. So, yeah, I need help there.
All flaked once it was time to make concrete plans.
Before you say this is crazy, which it of course is, I fucked my first wife 90 minutes after meeting her. It took a few months of her not really living in the dorm anymore before I came out of the washroom and was like, "Are we heading toward marriage?"
Her answer: "I guess so."
This after my first cohabitation experience was with my boss at the college paper. We competed a lot, and the net result was we shot from third tier or so to national awards in collegiate design. Living together was somewhere around eight days, and she'd not wanted to hire me.
With my second wife, um ... there is no definitive time where we got engaged. It was just always there even if unexpressed in the first week. The most conservative estimate is about five minutes after meeting. An actual conversation to formalize the whole affair came the night my first divorce was finalized some three months after we met and was for the most part a bumbling soliloquy on my end that she found amusing.
She had two boys, which sounds damn familiar.
So, traveling hundreds of miles on a whim to meet someone with kids? Not my first rodeo.