Hey guys, sorry for the hiatus.
This past weekend, for a short few hours, Wilmington was host to the would-be destructive force of hurricane Irene. The week prior, as she loomed closer and closer, an ominous cherry-red icon on tv’s and computer screens everywhere, my friends grew concerned for me. Where will you go? They said. You cannot stay in your van! Ah, but I can, because of this significant bonus to living in a vehicle:
It moves! Haha. I just drove to Charlotte. Sunny skies all weekend. My mobile advantage would’ve been even more poignantly illustrated, had the hurricane’s impact on Wilmington actually been more significant than a few downed power lines. But however weak it was, it’s still interesting that a generally negative thing – a potential natural disaster – brings to light the best advantages of my current living situation. This weekend also illustrated that a generally positive thing can illustrate one of my living situation’s significant flaws.
Charlotte was fun. I stayed with an ex and old friend of mine (yes, the same one, for those of you paying attention). Saturday morning, after breakfast at Cafe 100 (I beleive it’s called; I highly recommend it), my host and I wandered around a townhouse complex, exploring unfinished construction and the woods behind it almost like children (I live in a van- what made you think I ever grew up?). We snuck into a forest like space enclosed by kudzu on one side, hopped over tiny streams, examined bugs and leaves and slapped mosquitoes, and dirtied up a good pair of khaki’s, probably beyond washing clean. I have no regrets.
As we were trying to feed a caterpillar we had caught to a giant spider, my friend noticed a sound not unlike a cat’s meow. I insisted it was a bird or insect of some sort, and she insisted it was a very small kitten. To aid us in settling the debate, she nominated the option of throwing a brick from the nearby pile in its direction. A bird, she reasoned, would fly away. I talked her down to pebbles- she threw and we waited, and the meowing continued. Intrigued by this pebble-resistant, meowing creature, I found a sort-of path, unobscured by bushes and trees, that lead generally towards the sound. As we drew nearer, I expected the sound to stop, as the creature heard us and became frightened, but it did no such thing, and so before long, I was 5 yards away from, and exchanging a mutually curious look with, a very tiny kitten. My friend, I shit you not.
Allow me to put my masculinity in a very dark box for a second and tell you that my immediate reaction was “AWWWWWWWWWWW, KITTTTY!!!!!!”
The kitten was scared of us. But not very. He would approach within three or four feet, then run away if we made any sort of movement. But eventually…
We had him. As we found him surviving alone in the wilderness, we thought it appropriate to name him Bear Grylls. So we did. Then we bought him kitten formula and canned food and litterbox-sand. He is our Bear. We feed him Bear food. Lulz.
This awesome event presents a con to living in a van. My friend gets to keep Bear at her place, hours away from Wilmington. Her reaction?
Next post, I’ll explain how I eat, as this seems to intrigue a lot of you. Thanks for reading, Love.