I grew up on the outskirts of a small town, in a lumberjack’s shack that had seen decades of additions. It stood beside a lake created to regulate the flow of logs running downstream to lumbermills. I dreamed of a big-city job and of living in an apartment overlooking blacktop rivers that ran endlessly.
I never dreamed of dealing with bizarre neighbours, living paycheck-to-paycheck, or spending two hours daily navigating a 14-mile commute. And the job! I decided to change careers even before the head honcho went on trial and various bigwigs went to jail.
In pursuing a new career, I found myself on an ironic path which led to the outskirts of a small town on the shores of a river. And to a new little house full of nonsense.