Give me a P!....J! oops.

I'm brainstorming.

Actually, I'm not sure whether one brain can storm all by itself, so it may be that I'm merely brainsqualling, or just brainclouding. (Wait...braincloud...that's what the bogus doc told Tom Hanks he had in Joe Versus the Volcano to falsely convince him he was terminal. Well, whatever...I'm certain, actually, that I do have braincloud, and I'm equally certain that it's not terminal.)

This is the nature of my squall: (It was more of a revelation preceding rapt consideration...) I absolutely will not need a 6 bedroom house in a very few years. Really, I won't. I don't think anyone will come back for any significant amount of time, with the possible exception of Gabe, who may try to, whereupon he will discover that the chair in the computer room has been rigged with a Batmobile-like spring device which will eject him through a special Gabe-shaped cut-out in the roof. I'm going to have to see if Dutch the handyman can work on that.

But, honest-to-goodness, I cannot picture what I'd want to do instead, because--for some reason--my vision is apparently incapable of extending that far. I'm pretty sure that this house--this rather wonderful, handcrafted, visionary, but utterly quirky house--is much too much for two people with one and a half brains. But what to run away to? And would I simply be running away from a loneliness that's going to follow me anyway? Seems entirely possible.

I cannot move to one of the places I would go if this silly life scenario had played out 2 or 3 decades down the road, when a choice to be surrounded by other seniors and the usual senior amenities (including conveniently proximate nursing care) might be sensible and appealing. Nor is it enough to stay here, reminding myself that my mother and sister are 2 and 3 miles down the road--because we have our separate lives and responsibilities and only intersect when it's deliberate. This is a largish house, on 1/3 acre, on a pleasant street where you only see your neighbors in passing, while walking the dog. I don't think this is how humans were designed to live. At least not alone.

I am somewhat enthralled by the notion of co-housing--planned neighborhoods, where families or individuals have their own smallish homes, but carry out many functions in a central structure, and enjoy community meals, a group garden, central greens. I guess it could be awful. It depends. It could be magnificent.

Trouble is, I'm far too impatient, and anxious to answer a question that doesn't yet require an answer. Lots can happen. Life may flop its own idea of a next step down in front of me like a gauntlet that I haven't imagined. And I am intrigued by that possibility.

INFJ. That's me, as measured by Myers-Briggs. I think, though, that I will just take that J and exchange it for the P, if you don't mind. I'm done with the J. You can have it. It wants everything to be mapped out and settled, and things are almost never mapped out and settled. Silly old J. Maybe it would like a glass of Pinot.