When I told my husband I wanted to quit this life, leave our jobs and live in a tent in New Zealand, I knew he’d agree. He’d been waiting for me to throw in the baton on our city life for a while. He’d overlook no running hot water and taking a dump in a hole full of sawdust if it meant that he didn’t have to listen to my increasingly complex coffee order when we brunched. But let’s be real, this is the decision of the privileged. We had savings, and I can write as I roam to ensure we keep afloat. Not everyone can walk away from their life.