An Evening Chill

There is a chill in the house that won't go away. I wonder is this age that creeps up on me or the daunting task of living within a budget. Is it inexplicable to think how much easier things could be if I decided I no longer needed the car or the insurance that goes with it? 

Could I rely on faith and good eating habits to quantify my savings by canceling my health insurance, and would it be so odd to dispose of the leash that tethers me everywhere I go by relinquishing my phone? These few items alone would relieve me of the burden with this workload I carry to make what I need to not only survive, but thrive. But, what if by releasing the tension these requirements make with the sustainable minimal amount I earn, that without I might flourish, an idea I have been toying with.

Then what? Do I buy more comics? Do I try to find that diamond in the rough? Do I use the excuse of lack of funds to keep me inside for hours and hours to type words? And are those words any good strung together?

The chill lingers, the portable heater drums on, and I gaze at my comic collection. Each box filled with books attached to memories, some more potent than others. Each cover, each story silently crying out to me to read again. And I question if I give in to that silent voice, where should I begin?

Thanks for Reading