Into the Breach, Dear Friend!

It was another cold morning at the shopping center.  Ferret and I sat drinking coffee and people watching.  Ferret told me this morning that he was going to be homeless again.  He said it so matter-of-factly that I didn't quite know how to take it. 

"They're foreclosing on my crackhead landlord's house," he said as if it was just a passing thought.

"What about the apartments up the street?" I asked, worried. "Surely, you can rent one of those."

"Those places are a dump," Ferret replied huffily. "Besides, I kind of like being homeless.  I have more money for beer."

I started to make a mental list of what Ferret needed.  He needs a new tent and a much warmer sleeping bag.  Luckily, the dreaded Wal-Mart has those items.  He also needs some heavier clothes, gloves, and a warm coat.  I was worried about the cold more than anything.  If the long range computer weather models pan out, then its going to be a cold winter.

"You going to come drink some beer with me at my campsite?" Ferret then asked.

"I'll come and visit you, but I am not drinking beer."

Ferret laughed heartily.  He loves to pick at me about my sobriety.  I don't think he can imagine living without his daily dose of alcohol. 

I was also surprised at how Ferret was taking this.  He doesn't seem concerned at all.  I think Ferret suffers from that same deluded reality as I.  We can't think of the future or get a grasp on future events.  We live only for the moment.  It should be a psychiatric diagnosis in it's own right, existential psychosis.