Tumbleweeding

Good afternoon, gentle readers, and happy St. Patrick's Day!
It's not quite 6:00 P.M. here and the day has been wet and dreary.  As I lay here, balancing this keyboard on my upraised knees, typing perpendicularly, I'm glad to be indoors.  The cold isn't so bad, but the rain and the wind make it feel so much worse.
It's at times like these that I reconsider my fantasy of buying a house on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The view would be fantastic, but the weather would be awful.
My own home is, currently, less than a fantasy.  I moved into my new place last October and have spent the last five months or so making improvements to the place.  Some, like the new heat system, were essential. Others (having the popcorn ceilings scraped) were more about aesthetics.
The entire experience has drained my bank accounts, tested my patience and generally been a pain in the ass.  Still, I can't complain about the end product.  The place does look better.
So it is somewhat ironic that, just as I'm reaching the conclusion of this project, that I have an interview for a job in another part of the country.
The Fates, it seems, have a sense of humor after all.
I honestly don't know if I'll get the job.  I suspect the interviews they are doing are merely for show. In my experience, in circumstances like this, the hiring agency already has someone lined up for the position and all of this is just a show for the Human Resources department.
After all, they must be seen to be going through the motions. True?
Because of that, I don't really expect to get this job.  If I do, that will be interesting. It would necessitate a move across the country to New Mexico.  I would have to put my place on the market for a quick sale. I would be starting over again from scratch.
Gentle readers, forgive my honesty here, but sometimes I think I'm too old and too fat to constantly be starting over again.  It all feels a bit ridiculous to me that, at this stage in my life, I'm not really established.  I don't really feel like I've set down roots anywhere.  Instead, I feel like I'm tumbleweeding through existence, blown hither and yon by the winds of chance.
Not that that's a bad thing. I think I'm lucky and I usually land on my feet. I've certainly accumulated some interesting experiences.
And isn't that what life is all supposed to be about? Experience?
So, what next?
I have no idea.
But I think it'll be interesting.