a backpack or bookends

Sometimes we make decisions. Other times, decisions are made for us.

I've been fired.

Ha. I'm laughing. This is great. Okay, so I haven't really been fired. I've been 'released'. Freed. As my boss put it, he's throwing me into the pool. He's letting me go. The print industry is slow these days and I'm too expensive to keep as the sole employee of a small business -- the same business I considered purchasing on my return to Ontario. So, I did what every rational person would do in such a situation: I called up my other boss at the group home and told him I'm quitting. No more night shifts at the group home. And no more day shifts at the print shop. As of March 16, I'll be unemployed. And as of April 1 I'll be homeless, as my parents are also forcing freedom on me. They're not heartless and cruel. They just want their life back. I don't blame them. Ha. Nothing surprises me these days.

I have a tendency to take some things in stride. It's a tendency that drives my mother crazy. But I can't help it. It's who I am. So, now I am faced with a question: a backpack or bookends? It's been brewing in me for a while to just pack all my stuff into a backpack and take off for unknown destinations. What holds me back is the other desire: to find a home, a wife, and a bookshelf on which to hold all my books. To settle, or not to settle?. That is the question.