I just realized that I’m the only one in my immediate family (meaning my mom and sister) who lives in permanent structure (though a rental) and has a job. This has little to do with the economy and everything to do with personal choice. My mom has lived in a mobile home for a decade and quit her job because she doesn't like working. My sister and her husband just relocated from Brighton, England to a coastal Oregon state park near my mother and are inhabiting an RV that they plan to take on the road soon. Neither she, nor her husband, have jobs.
It surprises me that I'm so full of stability. I've never liked working (the 26 months at my current job is a record) but as long as I remain in NYC, loosey-goosiness is not an option. Part-time work wouldn't even be a possibility. It's depressing, but not so crushing that I feel compelled to move in order to work less (at least not yet).
There is one trailer park in New York City, though. Just one, in Staten Island (it busted my chops that The New York Times wrote about it last month—I harbored fantasies of writing something about the anomaly for years but never knew how or what because I'm not good with follow through). I've been fascinated by it since the first time I zoomed past, right before heading over the Goethals Bridge into New Jersey. I wonder how much it costs to live there.