Plans are for squares.

Want to know what happens when we make plans? Everything goes horribly awry. Some of this is probably redundant, but it's all to illustrate a point.

We made a plan to stay in Laughlin, Nevada. And what happened? We spent the night in the parking lot of a sleazy casino along the main strip sleeping with one eye open. Come morning, I was already jumping at the bit to leave. Nothing good can come out of staying in casino parking lots. Not without a loaded .44 and a jug of cheap booze to drown out the nerves while doing so. After that, we planned on staying outside of Needles, California. That was a wash. 12 miles out of town on a urine bottle covered highway. I'm all for adventure and new experiences. That just wasn't it.

So, after a frantic Google search, we ended up with Lone Pine, California.

To go there wasn't planned. We just picked it at a whim. We planned to stay there for a while, and see if I could find some part time work to store up a little bit of extra money. Of course, this plan too went to hell. Well, sort of. During the job hunt there, I picked up on the fact that a campground north of town needed a host for the season. I called the BLM office in Bishop, thinking it would at least be worth a shot.

The plans to meet the BLM District Supervisor at the campground fell apart, as well. She came earlier in the day than we had discussed. So, on yet another lark, we drove to Bishop to meet her. Lo and behold, we got the position.

It's also cute that the day everything became official, a few of the positions that I had applied for in Lone Pine called me to let me know I had the jobs I was searching for. Such is life.

I'm pretty sure we made the right choice. If you had to choose between a graveyard shift short order cook, a McDonald's lackey, and a campground host in the middle of nowhere, I'd definitely choose the host position. They money isn't the same, but it seems like a much better gig. Working at a McDonald's in a tourist trap isn't my idea of a great time. I'm sure the money would have been better, but I feel like I'd be betraying myself. I wanted to escape the clutches of the man, and working at McSkizzle's seems to go against that completely. As for the short order cook job, when the current night guy there says the owner is a slightly unhinged drunk, that sends up red flags like hell.

So here we are. 15 miles out of town, sitting at the foot of some very large mountains. Our responsibilities in life are as follows: water trees, hose out vault toilets, and answer questions. Seems fairly simple. Not exactly what I'd call a high paced corporate power position. Which is nice, considering I'd like to avoid a heart attack by 30. Of course, this position will also give us plenty of time to devote to the shiny bead hoard. This is also a plus.

I'm guessing we made the right choice. I think we did. A lot of other people seem to think so too. Sometimes, it's not about the money. It's about what will cause you the least amount of stress in life. Also, throwing burgers to uptight SoCal yuppies seems like an entirely shit position.