If you have an aunt that casually mentions that she has a friend in Florida that owns vacation rentals on the Gulf of Mexico...yeah you might want to go ahead and follow up on that. Sweet-sunbathing-Jesus-in-the-morning, did Iuck the fuck out on this one.
I was in desperate need of a solid WiFi connection. Not only was my intention to domicile in Florida, but I had a growing pile of laundry, work emails to send, and a myriad of other logistical things to workout now that I had gone full on gypsy. When I first pulled up I immediately turned around assuming I had the wrong place. I spent about twenty minutes searching the neighborhood for the vacation house I had been granted full access to before a neighbor confirmed the fact that, yes, that waterfront property on Palma Sola Bay was indeed the spot I was looking for.
The joint is like a tiny private hotel. Heated pool, hot tub, the works. I've never been to a place like this that wasn't crammed with at least twenty other people. I've been here for six days now. Swimming, doing laundry, drinking beer, working on refining Thee Witchfinder General's systems...and writing. I've been banging away on a keyboard with a broken spacebar putting this blog together.
I never had any intention of writing anything at all on this...what-ever-the-fuck itis I'm doing. It had been suggested that I do so by a few friends before I even set out, but I didn't give the idea much thought before this week. I hadn't attempted to write anything more than a grocery list in more than a decade...and besides...who the fuck would read the thing? Judging by the analytics my hosting provider is showing me, people are reading it, and a few number more than I would have expected. Thank you for that.
Do to some wild, probably half-drunk, clerical fuck up on my part, my original plan to obtain legal residence in Florida didn't happen. The Chaos Dice rolled me a Texan. This ended up being more of a gift than a problem after doing some research. Ultimately I would have regretted being a Floridian had I learned what I know now later down the road...most notably...no property tax on the van in Texas. This is what is known as a "wicked bonus".
So now, on my final day on Palma Sola Bay, I'm trying to decide what to do next. Do I push it further south to Key West in the inevitable hell of their prime tourist season? Or do I start crawling west, towards the promise of cheap and free camping, cruising along Highway 10 towards my Texan destiny? Ultimately...it doesn't matter. I'm confident that no matter which I decide to do tomorrow morning, it will be a righteous fucking adventure.