Impulse

Last night, as I walked through the parking lot of the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, I observed a couple of minivans that were homeless motorhomes. The "tenants" were asleep in the vehicles. The telltale sign, of course, was the completely packed interior, which was only visible upon closer scrutiny. Later, back in Waimanalo, I performed an informal search for possible parking lots that could serve as the base for a homeless motorhome. Nada. I will have to consult with people more knowledgeable on the matter.

As it stands, I have tentatively set the date to go homeless in a to-be-determined homeless motorhome. I am looking at March 1st at the latest, but that's subject to change. I may be forced to remain in Waimanalo to buy some time. In fact, I may end up either keeping the current vehicle or purchasing a smaller commuter automobile. Homelessness may prove to be unviable, a distinct possibility considering the homeless epidemic in progress across the entire island. At the current rate of homeless proliferation, I am expecting severe Draconian measures to be invoked in the near future to forcefully reduce the homeless population or, at least, corral the homeless into an open-air prison of sorts.

I have made several impulsive decisions in the recent past (e.g., Chinatown dormitory) which resulted in some kind of fiasco. A more prudent course would have been to investigate more options (i.e., look "outside the box") before making a decision. Cost is not always an important factor either. Many times, I have been "saved" in the "eleventh hour." Being offered decent rental accommodations in Waimanalo is an example. Unfortunately, my real savior, a certain fitness and training hottie, has not come around. When will baby come around? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

The common cold is still ravaging the oversized cranium. The nauseating post-nasal drip will not stop. Thus, I am coughing, choking, and gagging all day and night. That's kind of like the perpetual old man noises emanating from old codgers, eh? Perhaps I no longer suffer from a bout of the common cold. Maybe I have been indoctrinated into the debilitated core of the senior citizens club. Oh Molech, have mercy!

This morning, I stopped by the Honda® dealership in town, actually the only automobile dealership in downtown. Very convenient since the bus stop (that I alight at) is in front of the building. Needless to say, no one would assist me, no less look in my direction. I actually had to ask for assistance, and that was only offered with reluctance. The sheer snobbery was appalling. There's no doubt that I was "profiled" as a homeless derelict, no doubt looking for a restroom to wash myself. I am privy to that kind of snobbery everywhere, including the coffee shop. Do I look the part? I guess so.

Although I spoke of options just prior, I can honestly state that there are very few of them available for sixty-year-old codgers. Most of the room rentals that are available exclude the geriatric demographic. Old folks need not apply. Renting my own place requires verifiable income, of which I have none. Yeah, I really "painted myself into a corner," eh? Options depleted. At least I know that, once I "fork out" the cash at any snobbish automobile dealership, I will take ownership of a new luxury minivan immediately. There will still be some snobbishness involved because taking out a loan (read: debt slavery) is much more desirable to the swindlers ... errr, sales personnel ... than cash.