Because I’m shortly to be between jobs and homes, Der suggested I come spend the summer with him.
Yes, of course, that’s a proposal fraught with all manner of implication, but we have a very casual, open relationship. In reality, he’s offered me some rooms, as any respectable host would, and not necessarily his own. But we’ll see what happens.
Shortly after that, a friend in the San Juan Islands asked if I wanted to come for an extended stay? She’s a older than I am, and the offer comes with a string attached: help painting up and fixing the house. But I wouldn’t mind that.
Right after that happened, a third friend, in rural-ish Ireland, asked if I would like to come house-sit for three months while she’s away on business. Rent free, all inclusive! Lovely!
The upshot is, I might just take six or with months and be that tried and true 18th century literary standard: the peripatetic house guest, who is typically less than rich, unmarried, and an old maid (over 18).
But for me, it’s a chance to wander the world and meet new people. And since everyone says my pets would be welcome as well, why not?