I’m your every day average person, about to embark on a not-so-average plan.

I graduated from college. Have too much debt in student loans. I’ve taken a number of short-term temporary jobs–a year or so each–in numerous places across the nation since graduation, all with the goal of making me all that much more attractive as an employee in my chosen field. They’ve all been great opportunities, with attendant long hours. It’s been two years since graduation. In that time, in pursuit of the perfect resume, I’ve lived no fewer than 1000 miles from my fiance, who is stuck in another city, pursuing his own temporary job, in pursuit of his own resume.

I’ve finally landed a job in his city. I get to move in two months. Middle of July is the magic date.

Unluckily, I got notice from my apartment building a while ago that they were going to be renovating the whole building. I have to move out May 24th.

These last two years–living alone, with no time for myself–have been devastating to me health-wise. I put on about thirty pounds. I get little exercise. I get out in the sun maybe four or five times a month. I am in worse shape than I’ve ever been before. I’m disconnected from everyone, everything, and the thought of shoving myself into some sublet–disconnecting myself even more from my environment–for the last two months made me feel ill to my stomach.

Perhaps that’s why I never looked for a sublet.

Perhaps that’s why, when I discovered there were several campgrounds relatively close in to my major metropolitan area, my heart leaped for the first time.

And maybe that’s why, instead of tossing my money into a second deposit in a second urban neighborhood, I bought a tent and a camping stove.

For close to eight weeks, I’m going to live outdoors. I’m going to hide it from my coworkers and my boss–they would never understand. And if you knew where I worked, you’d understand the incredible disconnect between what I am doing and what they are expecting.

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