This morning I owned a home in the hip Minneapolis suburbs. Tonight I'm shacked up at a motel in Ames, Iowa, and waiting on a pizza delivery. This may not seem like a good thing. But lemme tell you how good it felt to deposit that big fat check. We're throwing back a home brew (we can't afford that fancy store-bought stuff anymore) and still wondering: What the hell have I done? (Mason's toast: "Hope I didn't just ruin your life again.") He cracks me up.