When I meet people, I live in fear of people asking me ‘the’ question; but eventually after some small talk, the question always comes.

“Where do you live?”

It’s an innocent question, but it throws me every time. I normally look at the person and size them up before I answer. I try to determine how deep I can go with them.

  • If I don’t think they would understand or be interested in my unconventional tale, I tell them that I live in New York, but travel a lot.
  • If I think that they may be interested in travel or world geography, or simply know where SE Asia is, I tell them that the last place I lived was in Vietnam.
  • If I think they have a passport that has taken them beyond Mexico or the Caribbean, and they have ever picked up a National Geographic magazine, then I tell them that I live out of a suitcase.

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Reactions tend to vary. Some people want to know more and some just go oh, and move on; too much for their brain to comprehend. Or maybe they are just trying to figure out if my answer is the politically correct way to say “I’m a homeless person”.

I have struggled to give my ‘situation’ a name and tried out a few words such as:

Nomad
Vagabond
Hobo (my niece’s personal favorite)
Homeless
House-sitter

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  • Sherry Ott

    What is Ottsworld? It’s my journey! I quit my corporate IT job 2 years ago and said goodbye to blackberries, meetings and New Y…

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